


On The Grounds Of Brooklyn

by its_a_religion



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I tried okay?, I will add tags as I go along, ITS A COINCIDENCE, Kinda, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sensory Overload, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, accidental misgendering, but not enough to use warnings I dont think, dont do what my son does, how race ended up at sheepshead, idk y'all please just enjoy this pile of words, implied minor character death, it only goes downhill from here kiddos, its 1897 kids, its only mentioned twice and no one give a damn, jack is annoying, let me know if i should tag anything else, no one liked him anyway, not graphic, period mention, race is adorable, race is not named race because he sells at the races, spot is a softie, trans!spot, unsafe binding, very very breif, well a little graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-23 09:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13785036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_a_religion/pseuds/its_a_religion
Summary: This is the story of how Race got his selling spot at sheepshead, fell in love with Spot Conlon, and got beat up a few times along the way.





	1. A Melee, A Message, and A Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy this pile of words. It has kind of become my baby so please don't hate too hard.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time spot and race ever meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this first chapter is short, but once I finish editing the second one I will post it. This is the first work I'm posting in the Newsies fandom, however, I've been in love with newsies and Sprace for a VEEEEERY long time! Please enjoy this awful pile of words that has been haphazardly thrown together during 14 hour shifts at the airport! Enjoy kiddos!

“EXTRA EXTRA!” Spot shouts, “LEVEES CRUMBLE! THOUSANDS FEAR FOR THEIR LIVES!” A few people shuffle over and trade pennies for his last few papers. Spot steps down from the crate he had been standing on and begins the trek back to the lodging house. He stops by some of the younger newsies selling spots to check in. He passes a few of his regulars, giving them a tip of his hat as thanks for being loyal. Since all the newsies are doing alright in Brooklyn with the past few days yielding excellent headlines, Spot allows himself to zone out as he makes his way to the lodging house. He rarely gets a moment where he doesn't have to worry about one of his newsies or having to soak one of someone else's. He relishes moments like this, where he can feel the breeze through his hair and just listen to the sounds of the city. That is until he hears the unmistakable sounds of a fight.

 

Spot clenches his fists and gets ready to teach whoever is causing trouble a lesson. He runs into the alley, where the noise is coming from and finds one of his youngest newsies, Pepper, a Queens newsie whose name he remembers is Fringe, and a wiry blond newsie he had never seen before. Pepper is sitting on the ground crying into his knees, while the blond newsie beats the shit out of Fringe. Spot stands stunned for a moment. He has fought Fringe before and barely made it out, and yet this skinny kid is somehow beating the daylights out of him. Spot’s awe only lasts a few moments, though, before he jumps in and pulls the blond kid off. He tries to get a decent hold on him while he throws a hard punch to Fringe’s nose.

 

“Fringe! Get the hell off my turf!” Spot shouts, still trying to wrangle the blond boy. “If I ever sees ya ‘round here again I’s gonna soak ya ‘til ya dead!” Spot watches, with a satisfied smirk on his face, as Fringe stumbles away, cradling his face and leaving a trail of blood from his nose. As soon as Fringe is out of view he turns to the wiry boy who has escaped his grasp and run to Pepper. “Who the hell are you?” He says waving an accusatory finger at him. “Why are you fighting Queens kids in my borough?!”

 

The newsie looks up at Spot and glares, his blue eyes piercing Spot through the heart. “The name’s Racetrack, Race. Now instead of yellin’ maybe you should deal with your little newsie here.” He gestures towards Pepper who is still sobbing in a ball. Spot can feel Race watching him like a hawk as he kneels down and places a hand on Pepper’s shoulder.

 

“Hey Pepp, I needs ya to take a breath. It's me. It's Spot. I’s here. Me ‘n Race, we’s got ya.” His voice is softer than it had been when he’d spoken to Race before, but it's still got a hard edge to it. Spot continues to comfort Pepper until, slowly, Pepper pulls his head out from where it had been tucked into his knees. He looks up at Race, then at Spot, then at Race again before launching himself into Race’s chest and latching on around his neck.

 

“Hey kiddo, s’okay. You’s okay. He’s gone. He ain’t gonna bother you no more.” Race says, rubbing a hand up and down Peppers back. Spot motions for Race to follow as he stands up. Race lifts Pepper, who clings on even tighter, and the three boys head towards the lodging house together.

 

As soon as they are inside they put Pepper down on his bunk. At some point during the walk, he had fallen asleep in Races arms, and Spot figures the kid needs his rest more than anything at that moment. Spot gestures for Race to follow him outside. “Who the hell are you?” Spot asks again, jamming a finger into Race’s chest.

 

“I already told ya. My name’s Race.” Race snaps back, swatting Spot’s hand away.

 

Spot rolls his eyes. “I ain’t seen you ‘round before. Where’s you from? What’s you doin’ here? Why is you fighting Queens boys on my turf?”

 

“I came with a message from Kelly.” Race says, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

“Oh, so you’s a ‘hattan newsie,” Spot says with a smirk. “That still don't explain why you was beatin’ Fringe. Not that I’s mad, Fringe is bad news.”

“Well,” Race begins, “I was on my way here, to the lodging house, when I hear some kid screamin’ an’ beggin’ “don't take my money,” and “them’s my papes,” and shit like that. Kid sounds real little too, so I can't jus’ ignore it ya knows? So I follow the sound and I see this big kid, Fringe I guess, trying’ to steal that little kid’s, Pepper’s, papes and pennies. I wasn't gonna let that happen, so I’s stepped in.” Race finishes with a nod and an eyebrow raise as if to say ‘your move’ to Spot.

 

“Well I appreciate you’s helpin’ out Pepper, and I’s gotta say, I’s impressed. I had to teach Fringe a lesson once, and I know he ain’t easy to take down. Ya did good. Now, what did Jackie-boy have to say to me?”

 

“Well as you knows, Manhattan’s been gettin’ lotsa new boys lately and we’s gettin’ kinda crowded in our selling spots.” Race begins explaining, trying not to show how he is internally freaking out at the praise he just received from _The_ Spot Conlon.

 

“It ain’t my fault you’s crowded Racer,” Spot says warningly.

 

“I ain’t sayin that, but you’s got an open selling spot and Jack’s been askin’ around at other boroughs too,” Race rambles, “ and we was wonderin’ if you’d let one of us ‘hattan boys sell at sheepshead? You could choose whoever yous wants except Jack or Crutchie on account of Jack’s the leader of Manhattan, and it ain’t fair to make Crutchie walk this far.” Race finishes his explanation and looks at Spot pleadingly.

 

“I'll think about it,” Spot concludes, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You run back to Kelly and let him know I’s considerin’ his request.”

 

Race nods, gets up, and starts to walk away before turning once more to face Spot. “Ya know, Conlon, ya ain’t as scary as they says.” Then he turns and jogs off in the direction of Manhattan.

 

Spot shakes his head with a huff and watches Race until he is out of sight, then goes back into the lodging house. He climbs the stairs and enters the room where Pepper had been sleeping. He looks around and sees a few of the other young newsies also sleeping on their respective bunks. He goes to the end of the room and finds Pepper sitting upright in his bed looking at a leftover newspaper from a few days prior. Spot knows Pepper can't read, but doesn't question the kid. As he comes up on the bunk, Pepper looks up. “Heya kid,” Spot greets softly.

“Where’s Race?” Pepper asks, his voice sleepy but his eyes bright.

“Racetrack had to go back to Manhattan,” Spot explains. He sees Pepper’s eyes dull ever so slightly so he follows up with, “but I am sure he will be back soon.”

Pepper smiles at this. “I likes him. He’s nicer den most. He saved me pennies.”

“Yeah, he did. He’s a good kid.” Spot says with a small smile. Very few newsies would have even attempted to beat up on a guy like Fringe, let alone do it for a little newsie they didn't even know, but it seemed that Race hadn’t thought twice about it. “Pepper?” Spot questions, prompting the little boy to look up again.

 

“Yeah?” He responds, brushing dark curls out of his hazel eyes.

 

“Why was Fringe tryin’ ta steal your stuff?” Spot questions, hoping to get the story from Pepper’s point of view so as to know whether he needs to talk to Queens or not.

 

“Well I was sellin’ near the border, ‘n I saw Fringe on the other side tryna sell too, ‘n a guy bought from me ‘n not him, so I guess that made him mad,” Pepper rambles, “then when I’s walkin’ back with my last few papes, he pushes me into the alley and tries to steal my things, so I’s beggin’ him not to when Race comes, and you know the rest.”

 

Spot makes a mental note to send a messenger to Queens in the morning to have a word about Fringe. “I’s real sorry that happened to you Pepp. That was real mean a’ Fringe.”

 

“Yeah, but  s’okay ‘cause Racetrack saved me.” Pepper begins to smile but is cut off by a yawn.

 

“Yeah,” Spot agrees, “real good.” He smiles down at the little newsie. “You should gets ta sleep kid, up and sellin’ again tomorrow.” Spot stands up to leave but turns to Pepper before going and says, “sleep tight kiddo, and tomorrow yous stickin with me for safety okay?”

 

Pepper smiles and nods, then lays down and shuts his eyes. Spot knows his work for the night is almost over. He heads down to the common area and wrangles the rest of his newsies, counting head as they file past him on their way to their respective bunks. Spot hikes up the stairs after ensuring all his boys are accounted for, letting out a sigh as the weight of the day rolls off his shoulders. He finally gets to lay down in his bunk and leave his problems behind until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dont fret kids it only gets worse from here. Ive actually got like 80% of this thing written already, i just need to go through and edit and have my lovely beta Lily help me out as well! Ill try to post every few days! I hope you liked chapter one! Just so you know I am a sucker for kudos and comments so if you are willing to leave one or both, I will be eternally grateful. Thank you so much for reading!


	2. Spot Ponders, Race Get Stuck, and Pepper Makes a Friend.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is rain, there is yelling, there is fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am the fun fairy here to drop some angst on you. Please enjoy. (It's not that bad yet don't worry).

ALRIGHT BOYS UP ‘N AT ‘EM!” Spot shouts, banging on bunk after bunk and waking his boys, “THOSE PAPES AIN’T GON’ SELL THEMSELVES!” He reaches Pepper’s bunk and looks down at the frizzy haired boy, “come find me at the circulation gate sos we can sell together okay?” He says sternly, but kindly. 

 

“Yessir!” Pepper responds with the energy only a young child could have so early in the morning. He hops off the bed and runs to get ready for the day. 

 

After insuring all his newsies are up and moving, Spot heads down to the circulation gate with his seconds in command, Crumb and Drops. “Listen up,” he says, “I’s sellin’ wit Pepper today on account of a Queens boy almost beat ‘im up yesterday. I's sellin’ for yous for today too. I want you two to go to Queens and let ‘em know if any of them try to touch one of my newsies again, especially a young’un, they’s startin’ a war. Got it?”

 

“Yessir!” They reply in unison, quickly handing Spot their money, before taking off in the direction of Queens. Spot watches them go the feels a tugging on his hand. He looks down to see Pepper, dark curls now covered by a newsie cap, looking up at him hopefully. 

 

“Ready to go?” He asks quietly. Pepper nods eagerly in response and looks up at the headline. Spot sighs as he reads it out to Pepper. It's something about a politician. He knew the amazing headlines wouldn't last forever, and usually it wouldn't be an issue, but he has Pepper with him today, and has to sell for Crumb and Drops. Spot nods at Pepper and they get in the front of the line for papes. 

 

***

 

“Spot?” Pepper asks, voice excited, despite the suffocating summer heat and terrible headline.

 

“Yes Pepper?” Spot says, trying not to sound as disinterested as he feels.

 

“When is Race coming back?” Spot has to stifle a groan. as this is probably the hundredth time Pepper has asked in just the last hour.

 

“Like I said before,” Spot says, keeping almost all the annoyance out of his voice, “he will come back when Jack Kelly sends him back.”

 

“I hope it's soon.” Pepper says hopefully.

 

“I know kid.”

 

“I really want Race to be friends with me,” Pepper says shyly.

 

“I'm sure if you asked if he wants to be friends with you, he’d say yes.” Spot replies with a small grin.

 

“You really think so?!” Pepper says, stopping dead in his tracks and looking up at Spot with his big hazel eyes.

 

“Yeah, I’s sure.” Spot replies honestly. He can't imagine Race saying no to Pepper’s face. Even Spot himself has a hard time saying no to the kid. 

 

“Spot?” Pepper asks again.

 

“Yeah kid?” Spot replies, silently praying the little newsie doesn't ask when Race is coming back  _ again _ .

 

“Why isn't Jack sending Race back yet?” Pepper’s voice is so innocent that Spot has a hard time staying mad.

 

“How about this?” Spot begins, “I'll give you a quarter is you stop talking about Race until Race actually gets here.” 

 

Pepper’s eyes light up and he mimes zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key as he nods at Spot. Spot breathes a sigh of relief and gets back to trying to sell his last few papers.

 

***

 

Almost a week passes before Spot sees Race again. He is sitting on the front lawn of the lodging house playing go-fish with Pepper, Caps, Drops, and Crumb when Race comes jogging up. “Hey there Brooklyns,” he greets with his usual mischievous tone. 

 

“RACE!” Pepper shrieks, standing up and running to the older newsie, giving him a hug. “YOU CAME BACK!”

 

“Course I did kid! I couldn'ta stayed away from you too long. Plus, Kelly has a message for Spot.”

 

At the sound of his name, Spot sets down his cards and gestures for his newsies to go inside. Pepper gives him his best puppy dog eyes. “I'll come ‘nd gets ya when we’s done talkin’ so you can talk to him, kay Pepp?” Spot says in response, handing the kid his quarter.

 

Pepper nods and smiles, before bolting into the lodging house to show his riches to his friends.

 

“So whats Kelly gotta say to me now?” Spot says.

 

“He don’t got nothin’ in particular to say. Just wonderin’ if yous gonna choose a newsie soon.” Race responds nonchalantly.

 

“I’s gotta think ‘bout it Racer. I can't afford ta have trouble on my turf.” Spot growls.

 

“Hey don't kill the messenger Spotty, I aint tryna rush ya!”

 

“Maybe you isn't, but it sure sounds like Jackie-boy is,” Spot grumbles.

 

“Jack’s just bein’ impatient. He appreciates that you’s even considerin’ it so don't worry too much about it,” Race says with a kind smile. Too kind for Spot. 

 

“Don't say it like that Racetrack. I ain’t no softy!”

 

“I never says you was!” Race responds quickly, throwing his hands up in surrender.

 

“Good.” Spot replies firmly. “I’s gonna go get Pepper now, you stay here.”

 

Race gives a mock salute before plopping down on the small lawn in front of the Brooklyn lodging house.

 

While Race is waiting on Spot and Pepper’s return, it begins to drizzle on him. He considers leaving and getting back to Manhattan before the weather worsens, but he figures he shouldn't disobey Spot Conlon. He moves a little closer to the lodging house, hoping the small overhang from the building will keep him a little dryer. It doesn't help much. Race is in the middle of trying to figure out what to do when Spot and Pepper walk out the door.

 

“Shit!” Spot yells before quickly clasping a hand over his mouth. Race snickers at the sudden outburst and the owlish face Pepper is currently giving his leader. 

 

“Relax Spot it's just a little rain,” Race says trying to stifle a grin. 

 

“I know it's just rain, I just don't want Kelly to have my head if yous gets sick on my turf,” Spot explains a little too quickly. “Just get your ass inside and we’ll finds ya some dry clothes.” Race immediately obeys, following Pepper and Spot inside and out of the biting rain. 

 

As the door shuts behind Race, Pepper looks up at him with big eyes. “Race is we friends?” He asks earnestly.

 

“Oh Pepper of course we is!” Race responds with a big smile. Pepper squeals with happiness, then runs off again to find the other young Brooklyn newsies and tell them the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two! I don't know when I will post three, but I won't make you wait too long I promise!


	3. Rowdiness, Reactions, and Reality.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A N G S T also trans spot and overwhelmed race.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is chapter three kiddos! Please enjoy the true beginning of the angst fest!

“Hurry up Racetrack I don't need ya gettin’ a cold or nothin’ and if yous keeps wearin’ that wet shit you will,” Spot says through the door, waiting not very patiently for Race to find some dry clothes.

 

“It ain’t my fault you’s half my height Spotty!” Race quips, tugging on the biggest shirt and pants he can find. 

 

Spot groans in response, but much to Race’s surprise doesn't threaten to soak him or throw him out in the rain. Instead, Spot enters and silently grabs Race’s wet clothes and hangs them around the small room to dry. Race watches in shock as the King of Brooklyn finishes up. 

 

Spot motions for him to follow and then leads him back down the stairs to the common room of the lodging house. Race notes that it is similar to the Manhattan one, but it has nicer furniture, twice as many newsies, and it's at least five times rowdier. “HEY!” Spot’s voice cries out over the hubbub, garnering everyone's attention in a matter of seconds. “We’s got a guest with us tonight. If you soak him I'll kill ya.” Spot says. The Brooklyn newsies nod their understanding before returning to their pandemonium. 

 

At first, Race enjoys himself. Playing a few rounds of go fish with some of the younger boys, then opting to just sit and watch as Spot plays some speed game Race has never seen. As the night goes on, the Brooklyn boys get louder and louder. Arguments over cheating break out throughout the room while little kids chase each other with wooden sticks and fake swords. 

 

Very quickly the loudness and rowdiness becomes overwhelming to Race. He is only used to so much at once. Really, he is used to Manhattan, where if it's too loud he can go up to Jack’s ‘penthouse’ or run fast and far without question. Here in the Brooklyn lodging house Race has no escape. His breathing starts to pick up. He wants to run, but running would be disrespecting the most powerful and arguably the most dangerous newsie in all of New York. He can't risk that. He tries to shrink up as small as he can, sitting on the floor next to Spot. He presses his back into the wall and fights the urge to cry. He’s not sure how long he sits like this before Spot notices. 

 

“Racer is you alright?” He asks quietly.

 

Race can't find it in himself to form actual words so he just shakes his head and covers up his ears in hopes that Spot understands. A few stray tears roll down his face. Spot looks confused for a moment, but then something seems to click. He glances around the room then nods to a newsie Race recognizes as Crumb before looking back at Race. “Is you good if I touches ya arm?”

 

Race hesitates, but eventually nods, allowing Spot to grab his arm and lead him out of the common room. They slowly make their way up a few flights of stairs and back into Spots room. Spot sits Race on the bed and gently pries his hands away from his ears. “It ain’t loud in here Racer. We’s away from the yelling now.” 

 

Race nods, but says nothing. 

 

“I’s sorry about that Racetrack. I know my newsies is rowdy. I didn't realize it was so bad. You’s my guest and I shoulda thought ‘bout that. I’s so sorry about them,” Spot rambles. Race watches in relative disbelief as New York’s most feared newsie apologizes to  _ him _ , some random messenger from Manhattan. Still unable to muster up the ability to speak, Race cuts Spot off by placing a hand softly on his shoulder and giving a gentle smile. Race swears he sees Spot blush, but he would never dream of saying anything about it. 

 

“I’s gonna go down and talk to Crumb for a sec, but I'll be right back okay?” Spot says looking at Race with far more emotion in his eyes than Race thought possible. Race nods and watches as Spot steps out of the room. 

 

While waiting for Spot to make his return, Race takes stock of the room. It’s the same as where he had changed earlier but he hadn’t had time to really soak it in. From what he can tell, Spot has his own room. There are different news clippings hung up on the walls along with at least a couple of what look kind of like Jack’s drawings, but happier. He wonders if Spot did them. Then, Race notices a pile of ace bandages on the floor in the corner opposite the bed and wonders what they are for. He is about to get up and investigate when Spot returns, shutting the door behind him. 

 

“You feeling any better yet?” Spot asks quietly, as though Race might break at any moment. 

 

“Yeah. Thank you.” Race replies in a voice little more than a whisper.

 

“Good. Can't have ya fallin’ apart on my turf now can I?” Spot jokes lightly.

 

Race huffs a shaky laugh, “I s’pose not.”

 

Spot smiles and sits down on the bed next to Race. “I think it’d be best if yous sleeps in here wit’ me. The main bunk room can get loud sometimes ‘nd I knows you don't like that.” Spot says carefully, trying not to offend Race in any way.

 

“Thanks, Spot.” Race responds with a small smile. 

 

“I don't mean for this to sound weird or nothin’ but you can sleep in the bed wit’ me if you wants to,” Spot says hesitating slightly.

 

“Thank you, Spot. That would be nice.” Race responds, trying not to sound too eager, although, he could swear he sees Spot’s eyes light up too. 

 

Spot smiles at Race for a moment before something flashes behind his eyes. He looks down at himself, then back up at Race.

“Racetrack, can you keep a secret?” He asks before he even realizes what he’s doing.

 

“My lips is always sealed.” Race responds.

 

“I ain’t a boy,” Spot says, hesitating slightly. “I mean I is, but I wasn't born as a boy. You can't tell anyone because if you does I could get killed.”

 

“We have lots of boys like that in Manhattan,” Race responds simply, noting how Spot relaxes at the acceptance he just received. “Ya knows it's bad to tie up your chest with bandages, though, right?” Race asks as the realization of what he’d seen earlier dawns on him.

 

“Yeah I knows, but it ain’t like I got a lot of options.” Spot spits out bitterly.

 

“Well, you should take ‘em off now because I can't have the King of Brooklyn getting hurt while I’s his guest.” Race says, lightening the mood with a joke.

 

Spot smirks at Race before gesturing for him to turn around. He carefully unwinds the bandages that bind his ribs and chest, trying not to wince as his hands brush against the ever-present bruising. He quickly pulls a larger shirt over his head, tossing his selling clothes in the corner with his bandages. He tugs on a pair of boxer shorts before sitting back down on the bed, cueing Race to uncover his face. Spot doesn't miss how Race’s eyes briefly dart down to Spot’s chest. 

 

Now, if Spot were a woman, he would be considered blessed as far as his chest goes. Unfortunately, Spot is not a woman, so his breasts generally just get in the way of his life, so naturally, he quickly gets offended when it seems Race is looking at his breasts.

 

“Is you sure you isn’t hurting yourself?” Race says before Spot can mention how the blond boy is staring at his chest. It dawns on Spot that perhaps Race isn't looking at his curse, but rather trying to figure out what shape his ribs are in.

 

“I’s fine Racer. Go to sleep. We’s got selling to do tomorrow.” Spot responds shortly before laying down with his back towards Race. Race can take a hint and he lays down facing the opposite direction and falls asleep.

 

***

 

A few hours later there is a bright flash of light through the windows followed by a booming crash. Spot jolts awake, momentarily disoriented when he sees a second body in his bed. He remembers that Racetrack is staying the night as another flash of lightning and crash of thunder roll through. He does his best to ignore the shaking in his hands and heart as he slips out of the bed around Race and tip-toes out of the room. He makes his way down the stairs to the bunk room, desperately trying not to flinch at every crash. He goes through the usual motions of a storm, pairing off the kids who don't handle storms well with the kids who don't mind helping out. There is no judgment at the fear among the newsies as most of the kids come from less than happy backgrounds and the sudden and startling loudness tends to remind them of their pasts. Except with Spot. Spot is supposed to be Brooklyn’s fearless leader which means he can't show how storms take him back to the worst memories of his life.

 

Once everyone is taken care of by one newsie or another, Spot retreats back to his room. He is pleased to find Racetrack still asleep. He flinches violently as another crash takes him off guard. Spot takes one final glance at Race, ensuring he is truly asleep, before following his usual storm routine. He backs himself into the far corner of the room, covers his ears, curls into a ball with his head between his knees, and wills the storm to pass soon as his anxiety finally overtakes him. 

 

Spot is unsure of how much time has passed, but he no longer can feel the shake of thunder. He slowly untangles himself and glances out the window, pleased to find it has stopped storming for the time being. He takes a deep breath and stands back up, walking to the bed and slipping in beside Race. He does his best not to notice how peaceful the boy looks when he sleeps. Blond curls flopping every which way and a relaxed expression painting his freckled face. Spot has to resist the urge to run a hand through Race’s hair and mentally kicks himself for even having such an urge in the first place. He lies down and hopes sleep will overtake him soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA DO NOT BIND WITH ANYTHING EXCEPT A Q U A L I T Y BINDER OKAY KIDS?! Remember this is 1897 so spot doesn't have any other viable options, but that doesn't mean it's okay for you to do because this is the 21st century and there are valid options even on a budget.


	4. Race Has a Fitting Nickname, Spot Make His Choice, and Pepper Buys a Sandwich.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's trouble brewing in the streets...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that Angst I have been talking about? This is where shit really picks up. It doesn't get better for a while either. Sorry. Just remember that I love these dumb kids with all my heart and soul and I feel very guilty for everything I put them through in this.

It has been a few weeks since Spot had last seen Race. And a few months since the first time Race had stayed at the lodging house. After everything he has seen from the Manhattan newsies, it was seeming as though Race is the most _Brooklyn_ of them, but if Race doesn't want it, or Spot changes his mind, the newsies Manhattan calls Specs or Romeo seem like good choices as well. But Race has no fear and is willing to stand up for what he believes in and can hold his own in any fight, meaning Spot is considering him the most. He finds Crumb and Drops and sends them off to Manhattan to retrieve Race.

 

With a decent headline and the excitement of seeing the wild blue-eyed newsie again, Spot easily sells all of his, Crumb’s, and Drops’, papers. He decides to treat himself to a sandwich from Katz’s Deli in celebration of such a good day. He enters and waits in the short line, paying for a simple turkey sandwich and sliding into a small booth after retrieving his food. He eats in silence, enjoying every last bite. He is about to exit when a familiar little newsie enters the shop.

 

“Heya Spot!” Pepper shouts excitedly.

 

Spot walks up to the young newsie a smile tugging lightly at the corners of his lips, “hey Pepp, what’s you doin’ here?” He asks.

 

“Wit’ dat quarta you gaves me some time ago, an’ da money I’s been savin’, I gots enough ta buy me a sandwich ‘nd keep my bed at da lodgin’ house!” Pepper responds excitedly. Spot smiles down at the kid who is practically vibrating with glee.

 

“Good job Pepper. I’s happy for ya.” Spot says. “Stay safe kid,” he adds before exiting the deli. Spot begins his walk back to the lodging house. The walk is a long one, but one Spot enjoys every time he makes it. The streets take him through the main selling spots for his newsies, giving him a chance to make a vague headcount.

 

He finally reaches the lodging house about half an hour later. It has started to drizzle and Spot prays it doesn't get worse, although the heat and humidity doesn't give him all that much hope. He wonders why it seems to rain every time Racetrack comes to Brooklyn. He recounts all the times Race had been to the lodging house and all but three of the times he ended up staying over due to the weather. He laughs to himself at the thought as he enters inside.

 

“Heya Spotty!” A familiar voice shouts when Spot enters into the common area.

 

“Racetrack, I's warnin’ ya,” Spot quips back, “call me ‘Spotty’ one more time ‘n I'll soak ya.” He smirks as Race feigns fear. His facade breaks quickly, however, and he dissolves into a fit of laughter seconds later.

 

“So whatcha need me for?” Race says when he catches his breath.

 

“I needs ya ta tell Kelly I got a couple boys in mind and I’s gonna make my choice soon,” Spot responds with a triumphant smile.

 

“Is you gonna tell us who sos they can try ta prove themselves?” Race asks, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

 

Spot smirks and contemplates for a moment. He is about to respond when a loud crash of thunder makes him freeze.

 

“Spot, is you okay?” Race askes quickly, fear evident in his voice.

 

Spot stands frozen in place for a long moment before another flash of lighting and crash of thunder brings him back to reality. “We gotta round up the newsies,” he says, failing at his already weak attempt to keep his voice even.

 

Race nods and looks over to Crumb and Drops. He looks at Spot for a moment, noting the sickly color of his face and the way his hands are trembling. He wants nothing more than to tell him everything will be okay, but he knows that Spot Conlon being treated as anything less than ‘extremely manly’ is not allowed and Race isn't willing to risk Spots entire reputation over some dumb little crush. He jogs over to Crumb and Drops and tells them Spot wants them to round up as many of the newsies as they can. They try to ask why Spot isn't telling them himself, but Race yells at them to stop wasting time and pushes them out the door.

 

Race calls out into the lodging house to see if anyone else is there with them. When met with silence he jogs back over to Spot. He places a hand gently on his shoulder and guides him up the stairs to his bedroom, or ‘King’s Suite’ as Race had been calling it lately. It takes Race back to that first night he stayed in Brooklyn. When everything was too much and Spot had been kind and understanding in a way Race had never expected he could be. They enter the room and Race sits Spot down on the bed.

 

“I’s gots to go help round everyone up, Spot,” Race says gently, “but I’s gonna be back soon I promise.”

 

Spot nods his understanding then pushes himself under the small quilt and curls into a small ball. Race looks sadly down at the quivering lump on the bed but knows he can't wait any longer. He bolts out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the lodging house into the driving rain. He starts his run around Brooklyn, thanking God for all the times had gotten lost previously allowing him to know his way around like it's his own borough. Every newsie he sees he directs back to the lodging house. He runs around until he can't find any newsies left on the streets, then bolts back to the lodging house to help with the head count.

 

Race, Crumb, and Drops count up all the newsies. A few file in as they go but it seems everyone is accounted for. Race takes one last glance around and realizes a certain dark haired, dark skinned, young boy is missing.

 

“Hey, Crumb!” Race calls over the murmuring. “Has you seen Pepper?”

 

Crumb shakes his head then looks at Drops who shakes hers too. Race takes one last look around the room before bolting back out into the storm. He thanks his lucky stars he’s fast. At first, it had just been some rain and occasional thunder and lightning. Now it was almost impossible for Race to even open his eyes and when he can the lightning is blinding and it's always followed closely by a near deafening crash of thunder.

 

He makes it almost all the way to the Brooklyn bridge when he hears a cry that sounds eerily like Pepper. Race shouts his name but gets nothing in response. He runs towards the general direction the sound came from, hoping he isn't wasting his time on nothing. He weaves in and out of alleyways hoping to find Pepper before the storm gets any worse. He stumbles into an alleyway but stops dead in his tracks when he sees something up ahead. He squints at the dark lump about twenty feet away. It's hard to see through the rain, but Race is sure it's Pepper. He is about to step forward when someone, much larger than he is, tackles him to the ground.

 

Race feels his head hit the pavement hard, scraping his cheek. He stifles a cry as the rain stings his open wound. He feels himself get flipped over, then suddenly he is looking up into the face of none other than Queens’ own Fringe.

 

Fringe smiles wickedly at Race before bringing his fist down hard and fast onto Race’s nose. Race hears the crack before he feels it. He screams out, trying to wriggle out of Fringe’s grip. Fringe just laughs and punches him again, this time he misses Race’s nose but manages to hit him square in the eye. Race struggles to get his hands free but it's no use. Fringe is twice the size of him and three times as strong. The only reason Race had been able to beat him last time was because of the element of surprise. He didn't have that advantage and is rapidly losing hope. He feels one more blow before everything goes dark.

 

***

 

“Drops found ya,” is the first thing Race hears when he tries to open his eyes. His head is pounding and he feels vaguely nauseous. “She and Crumb and a few others went out searching when ya didn't come back.”

 

Race opens his good eye a crack and sees Spot sitting on the floor next to the bed. “Is Pepper okay?” Race rasps out, feeling like he’d been trampled by a horse. Spot feels a pang of respect for Race. The kid doesn't care about anything except some little newsie who nearly got him killed.

 

“He ain’t awake yet,” Spot says carefully, “but he’s gonna be okay. Drops also took care of Fringe. He ain’t gonna be a problem no more.”

 

Race attempts a smile but finds his face in too much pain to move much. He sees a crash of lightning and watches sadly as Spot flinches at the thunder. He wants to get up and comfort him, but his body is protesting the idea of even being awake, let alone getting up and moving.

 

“Sorry Racer, this shoulda been me,” Spot says quietly, looking down at his hands.

 

“Ain’ ya fault.” Race manages to respond. He watches as Spot is about to say something when Drops comes jogging into the room.

 

“Pepper is awake,” she says while pulling her long dark hair up into a messy bun, “thought you two would want to know.” She smiles kindly.

 

Spot gives a nod of thanks. “How is he?” He questions.

 

“He’ll be okay. A little shook up, but no major injuries. Seems like Fringe knocked him out on the first or second blow and didn't have time to do more damage before Racetrack showed up.” She says. Race notices how she speaks differently from the rest of the newsies he’s met. She sounds well educated, a rarity for kids like them.

 

“Okay. Make sure he has someone wit’ him at all times. I ain’t allowin’ that kid to be alone until he’s fifty.” Spot says, giving a nod to his second. She nods back before leaving Race and Spot alone again.

 

“Spot?” Race says meekly.

 

“Yeah Racer?” He responds quickly, voice full of worry.

 

“I’s sorry.” The pain and guilt in Race’s voice breaks Spot’s heart.

 

“Don't say that Race. Don't you dare say that. Ain’t none of this was your fault. You’s the best newsie I’s ever met. Don't you dare apologize for somethin’ that ain’t your fault.” Spot says firmly.

 

“But if I hadn’t soaked Fringe in the first place, none of this would’a happened,” Race replies as tears begin to roll down his cheeks. “Now I’s all beat up and you’s gotta deal with me and that ain’t fair to ya.”

 

Spot watches, momentarily stunned at the statement Race has just made. Race winces as the salty tears sting the scrapes and cuts on his face.

 

“Racer none a’ this is on you. You saved Pepper’s life. _Twice._ You’s amazing Racetrack.” Spot says earnestly. He has never seen this side of Race and it is catching him off guard. He knows Race as the confident, sarcastic, funny, occasionally overwhelmed blond boy. Not the self-loathing, beaten down, broken boy he sees in front of him. Spot wants nothing more than to pull Race in close and never let go, but he knows he can't.

 

“‘M tired Spo’” Race mumbles, clearly on the verge of falling asleep.

 

“I know you is. Get some rest,” He says getting up to leave Race some time in private, “I'll sees ya in the mornin’.”

 

“Wait,” Race calls out weakly. “I-I don’ wanna be alone.” He whispers, looking pleadingly at Spot.

  
“Okay, Racer, I hears ya. I just gotta talk to Crumb and Drops for a second okay?” Spot says gently, “I's comin’ right back. I promise.” Race whimpers in response but doesn't argue. Spot leaves, but true to his word comes back minutes later. He sheds his shirt and pants and unwraps himself then pulls on a baggy shirt and crawls into the bed next to Race. Once Spot is settled, Race curls into him. Aside from occasionally waking up tangled together, Spot and Race are never intentionally this close together. They just aren't the touchy-feely type of friends. Spot, however, isn't going to lie. He sometimes wishes he was allowed to give Race a hug, or hold his hand, or kiss that stupid grin off his face. But, he’s sure Race doesn't feel the same. Race, who flirts with girls almost as much as Romeo. Race, whose smile alone could light up even the darkest of rooms. Race, who is so selfless, could never have feelings for someone like Spot. That being said, Spot is _absolutely_ loving the opportunity to hold Race and card his hand through Race’s curls. He just wishes the circumstances were different. He notices that the storm has mostly passed and there is barely a drizzle going on now. Spot listens to the sound of the rain hitting the fire escape, getting lost in his mind as he reflects on his and Race’s friendship. He makes up his mind. Race, fitting with his nickname, will be the only Manhattan newsie allowed to sell on Brooklyn turf at the Sheepshead Races. He has more than proven himself capable and this way Spot gets to see him more often and keep an eye on him so something like this night never happens again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I NEED FEEDBACK BECAUSE IM PRETTY SURE THIS WHOLE THING IS GARBAGE AND HONESTLY I MIGHT JUST TAKE IT DOWN!!!!


	5. Spot Waits, Race Aches, and Drops is Everyone’s Mom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race is not okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so its kinda gross at the beginning, but it gets better I swear. Also, I am so sorry Race.

Sometime in the middle of the night Spot wakes up. It's completely dark outside and he is unsure of what could have woken him. 

 

“Race?” He says as he sits up. Perhaps it was him? When he gets no answer he assumes it was nothing, maybe a stray dog barked or something. He goes to lay back down but sets his hand in something warm and wet. He is confused for a moment when the smell hits him. He jumps out of the bed, wiping his hand on his pants, and goes to find Drops.

 

Spot doesn't bother worrying about whether his yelling is waking up the rest of the newsies or not. He has bigger issues to deal with. He runs into the bunk room and shouts for Drops. She is immediately by his side and he grabs her by the wrist and pulls her back up to his room. They enter quickly, the intense vomit smell hitting them in the face immediately. Drops doesn't bother to ask any questions, instead just runs to Racetrack, turning him on his side so he doesn't choke. She checks that he is still breathing before directing Spot to get get a towel to clean up. Spot runs and grabs two towels, he wets one and keeps the other dry before bolting back into the room.

 

“Is he gonna be okay?” He asks quietly as Drops continues to check over the rest of Race. 

 

“I am honestly not sure Spot.” She says quietly. “This could just be because he got hit really hard in the head, but it may be because of something internal. I just don't know.” She looks at Spot with a sad smile. “All we can do now is clean up, and wait. Give me the towels and I'll clean up in here. You take him and bathe him, hopefully, he wakes up from the cold water.”

 

Spot stares at her for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “I can’t,” he says in disbelief.

 

“And  _ why  _ is that?” she asks, impatience evident in her voice. 

 

“He--he’ll be--I can’t--he--naked!” Spot half explains, waving his arms around in a gesture that is supposed to mean something but looks to Drops more like an octopus trying to catch a fly.

 

“You know him best, Spot.” She says sternly, “take him and clean him up.” Her tone leaves no room for argument and Spot finally obeys. As he lifts Race off the bed, a groan seeps out of the blond boy. Spot decides to take it as a good sign that Race is at the very least still alive. He is carefully carrying Race, bridal style, down the stairs when he hears a soft sound come from the boy. It sounds a bit like Race is trying to say something. Spot speeds up. 

 

He enters the bathroom and sits Race down, leaning him against the piping for the sinks. He pumps water into the washtub as fast as he can, keeping an eye on Race the whole time. When he hears another groan from Race, he immediately stops and runs over. 

 

“Racer, is you okay?” He asks fervently.

 

“Spo’?” Is the weak response he gets in return.

 

“Yeah Race, it's me. I’s here.” He runs a hand through Racetrack’s knotted curls. “I’s gotta get you cleaned up okay?”

 

Race gives a soft whine in response. Spot chooses to take it as an “absolutely Spot, that is no problem at all!” Rather than an “I think I might be dying so here’s my best attempt at saying goodbye.” Spot carefully tugs off Race’s shirt and shorts before lifting him up and setting him as softly as he can into the cold bath. He gently cleans the vomit off Race’s face and body then slowly washes his hair. He can see the cold water doing wonders for the boy. The blond is slowly but surely waking up more. Rather than just some groans and whines and occasional attempts at saying Spot’s name, Spot is now pleased to see Race moving his hands around, and squirming a bit as Spot pumps additional clean water to replace the soiled water he drained. 

 

Spot finishes cleaning Race up in silence. Hoping Race isn't too uncomfortable with his actions. He drains the rest of the water as there is a soft knock on the door. He glances at Race for a moment before moving to see what’s going on. He opens the door a crack and sees Drops and Crumb standing side by side. Drops holding fresh clothes and Crumb holding a bin. 

 

“What’s that for?” Spot asks, pointing at the bin in Crumb’s hands. 

 

“Fo’ da’ spoil’d clothes,” he responds simply, “Dropsy saids ta get it.”

 

Spot gives a tiny smile in thanks and takes the items from his seconds then dismisses them before returning to Race. 

 

“Hey pretty boy,” Spot says softly, hoping the affectionate nickname will capture as much of Race’s attention as possible. He squats down to be eye level with him. 

 

“Spo’” Race says quietly. He lifts his hand and making a grabbing motion at Spot. Spot is not entirely sure how to react so he reaches a hand out as well. As soon as it's close enough Race grabs it and sighs contentedly. 

 

“Racer, we’s gotta get some clothes on ya,” Spot says trying to hide just how happy he is to be holding Race’s hand. Race pouts but allows himself to be pulled up and out of the tub. He leans most of his weight onto Spot as they work together to get him into clean clothes. Spot manages to keep a hold on Race as he tosses the dirty clothes into the bin Crumb had brought. He kicks the bin into the corner, something to deal with another time.

 

“Spo’ I don’ feel good.” Race mutters as they start to make their way out of the bathroom.

 

“‘I’s gonna puke’ not good or ‘I’s got soaked’ not good?” Spot asks, slowing their pace.

 

“Both?” Race says like he’s unsure of the answer.

 

“Is ya gonna puke again?” Spot asks stopping dead in his tracks.

 

Race shakes his head but Spot doesn't entirely believe him. He makes a mental note to have Drops or Crumb grab Race a bin, just in case. They make their way back to Spot’s room slowly, stopping once when Race lets out a soft cry of pain as Spot maneuvers him. When they finally make it back, Drops is sitting on Spot’s bed. 

 

She helps Spot settle Race back into the bed, making sure he is on his side before she pulls Spot out into the hall. “You need to keep a very close eye on him.” She says sternly.

 

“I knows Drops, I ain’t stupid.” Spot bites back. 

 

“I know you aren't, Spot,” She says, softening when she sees the fear hiding behind his eyes. She can see just how worried he is about the Manhattan boy, and she knows this is more than just friendly worry. She isn't going to say anything, but she hopes Spot knows he can come to her if he needs help with this. “I’m gonna grab a bin in case he gets sick again, you go in and watch him. He is probably in a lot of pain and scared out of his mind right now so  _ comfort him _ , Spot. I know you don't usually do that mushy stuff, but the kid needs it right now.” ‘ _ And I think you do too’ _ goes unsaid. She gives a curt nod and makes a move to leave.

 

“Thank you Drops,” Spot says, the fear in his eyes giving way for gratitude.

 

“Anytime.” She responds, then walks away. When she returns with the bucket, about ten minutes later, she enters the room quietly. She finds Spot curled tightly around Race, who has somehow made himself small enough to be the little spoon, despite Race being the bigger boy. She smiles to herself and softly sets the bin next to the bed. She grabs a charcoal and a piece of paper from Spot’s “hidden” stash and draws a quick sketch of the boys. When she is done she rolls it up and sticks it underneath the bed by Spot and Race’s shoes. She exits the room as quietly as she can then returns to her bunk.

 

“Is he gonna be alright?” Crumb asks quietly from where he is laying.

 

“Yeah, Race’ll be okay. I think he just hit his head too hard and it made him sick. That happens sometimes.” She says.

 

“Not Race. Is Spot okay?” He clarifies.

 

Drops smiles sadly at him. She truly doesn't know. She gives him a tight hug and whispers, “go to sleep, Crumb.” She rolls away from him and shuts her eyes, praying she won't need to wake again until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so chapter six will be up on Sunday because I don't have wifi at home and I have a day off tomorrow and I work my other job on Saturday sorry! Anyway the usual, kudos make me smile and comments make me beam. I hope y'all are still enjoying this! Thanks for sticking with me!


	6. Spot Protects, Jack (Nearly) Gets Wrecked, and Drops is Still a Mom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It Gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here have this, it's not sad anymore. You are welcome. Also, we are only four chapters from the end and I'm kinda sad. Like I only have one chapter left to write and I am actually gonna miss writing this. Anyway, it ain't over 'til its over, so have this.

 

After nearly a week recovering at the Brooklyn lodging house, Manhattan finally sends someone looking for Race. Some loud jumpy kid with fiery red hair. Spot hears him before he sees him. He comes stomping into the lodging house screaming for someone named Tony. Spot is in the middle of teaching a speed game to Race when the ruckus begins.

 

“TONY IS YA HERE?!” A voice with a thick New York accent cries out from downstairs. “WHY AIN’T YOU COME BACK TA ‘HATTAN YET?!”

 

As soon as the name  _ Tony  _ is shouted Race buries his face in his hands letting out a frustrated groan. Spot chuckles and lays a hand on Race’s shoulder. “I'll go get him for ya,  _ Tony _ ,” he says with a grin. 

 

“ANTHONY IF YA AIN’T HERE AT LEAS’ TELL ME!” The redhead yells, “I AIN’T GOT ALL DAY! I’S GOTTA GET BACK TA MA--” 

 

“Quit ya screamin’ would ya?!” Spot says, approaching the loud boy with his arms crossed over his chest. 

 

“I’s lookin for Anthony.” He says loudly, but no longer yelling, “Is he here?”

 

“Yeah, he’s here c’mon.” Spot turns and starts climbing the stairs to his suite, the skinny boy following quickly behind. 

 

As they climb the stairs the Manhattan newsie keeps asking why Race has not returned to Manhattan yet, and why Spot is holding him hostage, and so on. Spot ignores him, figuring once he sees Race’s condition he will understand. 

 

He is right.

 

As soon as they enter the room, the red head makes a sound of disgust. “Ya’ look like shit, Higgins,” he says. 

 

“Nice ta see ya too, Albert,” Race responds with an eye roll.

 

“What in the hell happened?” Albert asks curiously. 

 

“‘Member that big storm at the beginning of the week?” Race begins, noticing out of the corner of his eye how Spot shudders at the mention, “well one a’ the littlest Brooklyn boys was missin’ sos I wents to find him.”

 

“Why didn't Spot go?” Albert asks. Spot opens his mouth to answer but Race cuts him off.

 

“He was busy organizing the newsies who was here.” He says. “Anyway, I found the kid all beat up in an alley, but the guy who done it, Fringe, was still there and he got me too. Payback for when I soaked him a few months ago I guess.” Race says with a shrug. “Ain’t a big deal. I lived.”

 

“Well,” Albert says, as if the story Race just told wasn't out of the ordinary at all, “when is ya comin' back home?”

 

“When I says he’s healed,” Spot cuts in, his tone standoffish. “Now get. I don't need any more trouble on my turf.”

 

Albert nods in fear and shows himself out of the lodging house. Spot watches from the window as Albert goes running towards the Brooklyn bridge.

 

“Ya ain’t gotta be so mean ta him, y’know?” Race says when Spot sits back down on the bed. 

 

Spot looks up at him but says nothing.

 

Race continues, “I jus’ mean, he’s been through hell and he ain’t meanin’ ta cause trouble.”

 

“That may be true,” Spot says, “but you’s still healing and he needed to go before it was too late to go back.”

 

Race half frowns at him but drops the subject. He picks up his cards and starts the game again. 

 

***

 

To Race, recovery feels like a nightmare. He isn't used to being cooped up for long and this is no exception. On the daily, he complains to Spot about wanting to get out and sell, and every day the answer is the same.

 

For three full weeks Race is stuck in the Brooklyn lodging house. Occasionally someone will stay with him, usually Spot, but for the most part Race is by himself. He takes the opportunity to snoop around Spot’s stuff. He figures it’s payback for Spot holding him hostage. One day he finds a small box stashed deep underneath Spot’s bed. It seems like maybe it is too private to open, but his curiosity gets the better of him. Inside he finds a collection of drawings. He sifts through them quickly looking for anything interesting. At first he doesn't find anything but after another pass he sees a drawing that has his face on it. Race takes a closer look and finds it's a sketch of him with Spot curled around him. He tries to understand why Spot would have something like this. There is no way someone like Spot Conlon could care about someone like Race in any way other than friendly. Not only is Spot a boy, but he also is, according to Race, way out of Race’s league. So no, there is no possible way Spot could like Race. He tries to convince himself of that, but for whatever reason, there is still a tiny glimmer of hope won't release it's vice grip on Race’s heart. 

 

He stares at the drawing for god knows how long, before he hears the newsies starting to return. He puts it back into the box and pushes the box back under the bed. Using the bedpost, Race hoists himself up. He walks down to the common area and finds a few of the younger newsies accompanied by a few of the older newsies. They call out their ‘hey racers’ and ‘feelin’ any betters’ to Race and he smiles and nods his hello back. He honestly only came down in hopes of talking to Spot, but he does enjoy hanging out with the other newsies. He joins in on their poker game to pass the time. 

 

“RACETRACK!” A familiar voice yells. However, much to Race’s disappointment, the voice doesn't belong to Spot. Instead, Race turns his head to see none other than Jack Kelly standing in the doorway of the common room looking annoyed. 

 

“Heya Jack,” Race says nonchalantly. 

 

Jack raises and eyebrow at Race in aggravated disbelief, “You’s been here for three weeks and ya greets me with ‘heya Jack,’ is you kiddin’ me?!” He huffs a displeased laugh. “At the very least you could pretend ta be happy ta see me! You’s been here so long we ain’t so sure you’s even Manhattan anymore.”

 

“Well, it ain’t like I was ‘bout ta walk all the way back! My foot was broke!” Race responds defensively. “Plus!” He adds, “even if I’d wanted to, Spot wouldn't a’ let me!”

 

“Wouldn’t let you what?” Spot’s voice enters into the conversation.

 

“Wouldn’t a’ let this  _ dumbass _ leave Brooklyn,” Jack unhelpfully says, turning his attention to Spot. “Why has he been here so long!?” Jack demands.

 

“He was in no condition ta leave here ‘nd you knows it Kelly,” Spot snarls. “Now, if you’s plans ta keep runnin’ ya mouth, I'll smash your teeth out.” He says, raising his fist. 

 

“Nobody is punching anyone!” Drops says sternly, walking into the common room. Her voice shuts both of the boys up instantly. “Okay, catch me up, what is the issue here?”

 

Jack and Spot immediately both start talking over each other. Spot mad at Jack for being rude, Jack mad at Spot for keeping Race in Brooklyn. Drops listens impatiently as the boys bicker like children. Once she’s heard enough she holds up her hand and both boys stop talking.

 

“You both are idiots.” She says. “Kelly, Spot was just taking care of Racetrack. Spot, Jack was just mad because Race had been gone so long. Both of you need to calm down.” She crosses her arms and gives them both pointed looks. They, in turn, hang their heads in shame.

 

Once she is done giving them a stare down, Jack looks over at Spot and Race. “I wants Racetrack back in Manhattan in two days. If the kid can walk downstairs ‘nd play cards, he’s able ta come home.”

 

“He will be there in two days,” Spot says with a curt nod, “now get back ta your boys before ya whole turf falls ta shit.” 

 

Jack gives Race a pointed look, and Spot a nod, before exiting the lodging house.

 

“Is you ready ta go home?” Spot asks Race quietly. Race nods in response.

 

“You wants ta go upstairs?” Spot asks, noticing how quiet Race has become after the yelling. Race nods again. Spot steps behind Race, allowing him to lead at his own pace. As soon as they enter the room, Race flops down on the bed. He says something into the mattress, but Spot can't hear it well enough to understand. 

 

“What was that Racer?” He says softly. 

 

“I said” Race mutters, turning to look at Spot, “I’s sorry Jack yelled at ya.”

 

“It’s fine Race.” Spot returns, sitting down on the bed next to his friend. “I can handle Jackie-boy.” Race huffs a laugh in response.

 

“I still don't likes that he’s yelled at you.” Race replies, breaking his eye contact with Spot. Spot places his hand on Races back and begins to rub up and down. 

 

“If I says it's fine, yous can believes me okay?” Spot says gently, continuing to rub Race’s back in what he hopes is a calming gesture. “Don't you worry your pretty little head about me. I can take Kelly no problem, plus I’s got Drops ta help out when I’s bein’ dumb.” Race smiles at this. He likes Drops a lot, especially considering the fact that she saved his life.

 

“I’s gonna miss it here.” He says so quietly, Spot almost misses it.

 

“Well, you’s actually gonna be around a lot,” Spot says thoughtfully, “I’s givin’ you sheepshead.”

 

Race stares blankly up at Spot for a moment before jerking upright. “You’s kiddin’ me.” He says, looking Spot dead in the eyes.

 

“I ain’t jokin’ Racer,” Spot says, his smile growing. “You’s more than proved yous can handle sellin’ in Brooklyn, so I’s givin’ ya the races. Very fitting considerin’ you’s called ‘Racetrack.’ Plus,” Spot continues, “This way I’s able ta keep an eye on yous.”  

 

Race, in a moment of complete shock and gratitude, lunges forward and grabs Spot’s face and kisses him.  A moment later Race pulls back, realizing what he just did. He starts to stumble out a rushed and rambling apology. But, to his pleasant surprise, is shut up when Spot pulls him back in and presses their lips firmly against each other again. Race absolutely melts into the feeling of Spot against his mouth. 

 

The next forty-eight hours pass in a blur of stolen kisses and forgotten responsibilities. Drops and Crumb cover Spot so he can “get Race ready to go.” Spot spends as much time as possible with his hands on Race. Whether it's kissing, cuddling, or just holding hands, the two are attached one way or another for as much time as they can be. But, as is the way of the world, time keeps moving and Race needs to go back to Manhattan or Jack will be forced to give up his bed. They part ways at the Brooklyn bridge with a firm handshake held a little too long, a glance around, and a quick peck. Race walks back towards Manhattan, glancing back occasionally until he can no longer see Spot. Spot watches until Race is out of sight, then just stares across the bridge until it gets dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I hope you liked this one! I had fun writing it. Y'all know the drill at this point.


	7. Race Goes Home, The Delanceys get Owned, and Spot and Albert Find Common Ground.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know how to summarize this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is alternatively titled "Sophie can't leave good things alone because they live their life in a perpetual state of angst." Enjoy!

Spot hopes to see Race at sheepshead the next day, but isn't surprised when he doesn't. He figures Jack will want to keep an eye on him for a few days. He is, however, surprised later that evening when a certain loud redhead shows up on the front lawn of the lodging house. Spot sets his cards down and stands up.

 

“Albert,” Spot says, annoyance evident in his voice. “Why is ya here?”

 

“I’s lookin for Tony.” He says like it's obvious. “You’s was supposed to send ‘im home yesterday.”

 

Spot stares at Albert for a long moment trying to figure out if this is some sort of sick joke. Albert looks back at him like he’s stupid. He stares for a moment longer then looks down at Drops and Crumb, who look back expectantly. “You two is in charge until Race is found. Drops, you round up the fastest kids we’s got. Crumb, you is on Pepper watch. I’s not sure what’s happenin’ but I’s not takin’ any chances neither.”

 

His seconds nod and do as they are told. “Wha’d’ya mean, ‘til Race’s found?” Albert asks.

 

“I sent him home yesterday afternoon, Albert,” Spot says solemnly. Spot can see the color drain from Albert’s face. He can tell the kid is about to start yelling so he cuts in first. “I know Racer’s, ya good friend. We’s gonna find him. I promise. But, yous freakin’ out ain’t gonna help us none, so I needs ya ta take a breath, yeah?” 

 

Albert gives a weak nod but listens. He takes a few deep breaths as Drops brings out the runners. Once they are all looking at Spot, he gives his instructions.

 

“Sleeves, Nubs, and Scratch, you three is startin’ at the bridge then headin’ north. Spritz, Laces, you’s goin wit’ Bricks ‘nd Dusty ta Queens. Find Smalls ‘nd tell her if Queens has Racer she’s dead. Everyone else, stick in pairs and fan out. We don't sleep until Race is found.” Spot nods at his runners and they pair up and start running. Drops gives Spot’s shoulder a squeeze and heads back into the house.

 

“What is we gonna do?” Albert says, in what would be considered a quiet voice for him. 

 

“We’s going to Manhattan,” Spot responds curtly.

 

The two boys make their way back to Manhattan running as quickly as they can. Once they reach the other side of the Brooklyn bridge, Spot stops. He is having a hard time breathing past the pain in his ribs. He tries not to show it, but he feels like he might pass out if he keeps at that pace.

 

“You okay?” Albert asks, hesitantly. Spot nods, but says nothing as he attempts to catch his breath. He is clutching at his ribs but hopes Albert doesn't notice. It's not like it's a thing most people would be looking for. Whether it's unfortunate for Spot or not is up for debate, but Albert notices Spot's odd behavior and decides to say something about it. 

 

“Spot I don't means ta be assuming nothing,” Albert says gently, nerves edging in his voice. “but I thinks it’d be best if ya unwrapped yourself.” Spot looks at Albert, expecting judgment and/or hatred. Instead, he finds understanding, but more so than with Race. He finds empathetic understanding. Spot nods and he and Albert duck into an alley and hide behind a stack of empty crates. Spot unwraps himself while Albert keeps watch. As soon as he is done he stuffs the bandages behind the crates, in hopes he may find them again later, and taps Albert on the shoulder.

 

“Al,” he says, looking at the boy sternly, “ya can't tell no one about this. Ya understand?”

 

“I knows Spot. I’s just like you. I ain't gonna tell.” Albert says with a smile. That smile, however, is short-lived when Albert glances down. “You’s gotta be careful. You’s not exactly passin’ right now.”

 

Spot frowns and nods, looking down self consciously. He wishes he had the time to figure out what to do, but Race is still missing and that takes priority. “We’s gotta find Race.”

 

Albert nods and the two take off running again. Spot isn't sure where the best place to look is, but luckily Albert seems to have an idea. Spot follows as they weave through the streets. 

 

Spot isn't sure exactly where they are when Albert abruptly stops. “This is where the Delancey’s like ta beat up kids they thinks deserve a soaking. Why they’d choose Tony, I’s not sure. But, if he’s in Manhattan. It's here.” He says. Spot nods and follows behind as Albert enters a rundown building. The inside smells stale and moldy. Spot feels his nerves edge as they make their way to a door. Albert signals for Spot to be quiet before leaning his ear against the door. His eyes squeeze closed as he concentrates, listening for anything that might be Race. He hears a thud, followed by a groan and two sets of laughter. Albert looks at Spot, who cracks his knuckles and squares his shoulders, ready to destroy the assholes who dared to mess with  _ his  _ Race.

 

On the signal of three Albert bursts the door open. Spot enters first and sees Race tied to a chair in the middle of the room looking as bad, if not worse than he did the night he saved Pepper. The only notable difference being he is still conscious. Next Spot sees the two garbage people who are hurting Race. Everything after that is a blur. Spot and Albert fight the Delanceys until they are bloodied to the point of being unrecognizable. Spot slams one of them into the wall and he slumps down, knocked out. He helps Albert do the same with the other. 

 

As soon as that is taken care of, both Spot and Albert rush to Race. 

 

“Race is you okay?” Spot asks hastily. “Racer talk ta me!”

 

Race groans, his head rolling to the side. 

 

“Tony please,” Albert begs, on the verge of tears. “Please, please say something!”

 

“We’s gotta get him to the lodging house,” Spot says attempting to untie Race with shaky hands. Albert nods and joins in. Race makes some whining sounds and groans a few times but isn't able to create words just yet. 

 

“Albert I’s gonna carry him,” Spot says as calmly as he can. “When we’s at the lodging house you’s gonna bring him in. I can't have Kelly seein’ me like this.”

 

“Spot, Jack ain’t gonna care,” Albert responds.

 

“ _ You’s gonna bring Race in _ ,” Spot repeats, more harshly this time. Effectively shutting Albert up. Albert helps Spot lift Race up from the chair and put him in Spots arms bridal style. 

 

“Spo’” Race whimpers out. “Spo’ theys seen us.” Albert looks at Spot who shakes his head, pretending not to know what Race is talking about. 

 

“It’s okay Racer,” Spot says gently, “everything will be alright.” Spot continues to ramble reassurances to Race as they make their way to the lodging house. Albert silently leads the way until they finally come upon the place. Spot hands Race gently over to Albert.

“Spot,” Albert says looking fearful, “he needs you to be here. You’s gotta come in. I’s can gets you stuff ta tie your chest again if you wants.”

 

“If yous can do that. I’s able ta come in.” Spot responds. “But, I’s waitin’ here ‘til you’s gives me the bandages.” Albert smiles a little and carries Race inside. Spot lingers near the entrance, drawing as little attention to himself as possible while he waits. A few Manhattan boys shuffle past him but pay no mind as they argue about who is the best at selling.

 

A few more minutes pass before Albert finally returns. “Not too tight,” he says as he hands Spot the bandages. Spot gives a nod in return and darts into an alley. He prays no one sees him as he wraps himself as quickly as possible. He looks down at himself, deems the job good enough, then jogs back to Albert. The two enter inside and immediately get stopped by Jack. 

 

“What the hell Spot!” He shouts.

 

“It ain’t my fault Kelly,” Spot snaps back. “Some assholes gots ta him on his way here.”

 

“That kid from Queens?” Jack asks, tone softening.

 

“Nah. Fringe ain't a problem no more,” Spot responds, smirking when he sees the understanding of what he just said flash in Jack's eyes. “The Delancey Brothers.”

 

Jack rubs his temples in frustration. The Delanceys had been getting more aggressive lately. He hopes that Spot soaked them enough to slow them down for a while. “Okay, Bones is with Race right now. We’s gonna talk until she’s done yeah?”

 

***

 

“Hey Racer,” Spot says, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “How’s ya feelin’?”

 

“I’s swell Spotty. Ready ta sell.” Race responds, sarcasm dripping from his hoarse voice.

 

Spot huffs a laugh. Even beaten and broken, Race still manages to maintain his sense of humor. 

 

“Well ta makes ya feel better,” Spot says, “I’s got the go-ahead from Kelly for ya ta sell at Sheepshead. If ya still wants it?”

 

“Is anyone in here?” Race asks quietly. Spot glances around and shakes his head when he sees no one else. Race's eyes light up. “Kiss me Spotty.”

 

Spot smirks and obliges. They break apart for a moment and Spot smiles. “I’s gonna take that as a yes.” He says and leans in again.

 

They unwillingly break apart again when they hear the rest of the Manhattan newsies starting to climb their way up the stairs to the bunk room. Spot watches in amazement as many of the boys strip off their shirts revealing various versions of the wrap he does on himself every day. A few of the boys even have tank tops that somehow seem to provide the same effect.

“Like I said, lots of ‘em are like you.” Race whispers. Spot smiles at Race, but his mind is occupied wondering how many of his boys are hiding the same secret. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, kids, I REALLY don't enjoy hurting Race even though it seems like I do. I feel so guilty about everything I put that poor boy through. Also, I have no life so come talk to me on Tumblr @racetracks-conlons Ill tell you all about why I think Spot and Race might have been the same person.


	8. Race’s at the Races, Spot Smiles, and There’s a Blizzard in Brooklyn.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little dash a fluff and a little pinch of angst and a whole lot of research and even more liberties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boop boop, this chapter is alternatively titled: the author takes a lot of liberties but also they did hella research so its at least somewhat historically accurate kinda. Enjoy!

“Racetrack!” Spot calls out, jogging over to where the blond boy is hawking his last few papers.

 

“Heya Spotty-boy!” Race calls back, after thanking the man who just bought his last paper. He hops off the crate he’d been standing on and walks to where Spot is waiting for him.

 

“It's good ta see ya mostly healed up. You’s lookin’ good,” Spot says with a smile. Race only started selling in Brooklyn a few days ago since he hadn’t been able to make the trip until then. Spot has been to Sheepshead every day since and has commented on Race’s recovery as well. Spot enjoyed how Race would smile even wider whenever Spot would compliment him.

 

This pattern continues through fall and into winter. Every day, as soon as Spot sells out, he makes his way to the tracks and waits for Race to finish up. Then the two walk together until Race has to go back to Manhattan. They often visit Pepper who now sells with Crumb every day, partially for safety and partially because Pepper has become like Crumb’s little brother. The little kid is just as effervescent as ever and he always manages to make both Race and Spot smile, even on the worst days.

 

One day, in mid-December, it takes Spot a while longer to sell out. He isn't surprised as it is snowing and the headline is mediocre at best. Even so, he still makes his way to Sheepshead. He isn't sure if Race is going to be there or not, he may have left for Manhattan already, but Spot decides to check anyway. As he walks the sky gets grayer and the snow starts to come down thicker. Spot can barely see a foot in front of himself. Finally, he can hear Race’s voice calling out into the snow.

 

[ “HORRIFIC POLICE BRUTALITY CAUSES UPROAR!” ](https://www.loc.gov/resource/sn83030180/1897-12-20/ed-1/?sp=6) Race’s distinctive voice calls out, in a desperate attempt to sell his last five papers. Spot listens to Race yell and uses it as a beacon, to find him in the conditions that are quickly becoming a blizzard. When the shouting stops, presumably because Race sold his last pape, Spot calls out.

 

“Racer is you here?!” Spot knows he is, he just can't find him in the snow.

 

“Spot I’s over here!” He hears Race call back. Spot heads in the direction of Races voice, occasionally calling out to make sure he is heading in the correct direction until the boy comes into view.

 

“Heya Racer,” He says with a smile. “You’s lookin’ good today.”

 

Race rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide the blush creeping along his cheeks. “Shuddup Spot, I’s gotta get back to ‘hattan ‘fore this gets worse.” Race says, still blushing. “Wait where is ya coat?” He accuses.

 

Spot laughs and shakes his head, “I’s not wearing it, I ain’t a wimp Racer, and you’s not going back to Manhattan. You’s gonna freeze ta death if I lets ya try.” Spot says in his ‘King of Brooklyn’ voice. Race knows not to argue with that voice so he follows close behind as they make their way back to the lodging house. As soon as they are inside, the two boys make their way up to the king's suite. Bone cold from the wet snow and freezing winter temperatures, they jump under Spot’s thin quilt and cuddle together only moments after entering the room.

 

“You’s shaking like a leaf Racer,” Spot comments hugging a little tighter.

 

“I’s cold Spot,” Race responds matter-of-factly.

 

Spot snorts a laugh then untangles himself, much to Race’s disappointment. He darts out of the room. Race waits quietly, curled in on himself for warmth under the quilt. Race is dozing off when Spot returns, a second quilt in his arms. Race smiles warmly at the sight.

 

“You’s the bes’ Spo’” He says sleepily. Spot smiles and crawls under the quilts, rejoining Race. Race pulling Spot in close and burying his face in the shorter boys hair and promptly falling asleep.

 

Spot smiles, listening to the boy he loves breathe peacefully. He cherishes moments like these, where the world feels still. Never in his life did he expect to find someone like Race. Spot always assumed he would die alone. He worked his way up as a newsie, out of the fear of being forgotten, but now that all seems unimportant. Spot doesn't need to be remembered. In fact, he doesn't care if he is forgotten next week. All he needs is Racetrack by his side until the day his light goes out.

 

Race shifts a little in his sleep, pulling Spot ever closer.

 

Spot smiles. Nothing matters except Race. Spot wishes he could hold Race’s hand in public. He wishes he could show off the beautiful boy to everyone he knows. He wishes he didn't have to hide from the world.

 

For a moment he considers going back to living his life as a woman, but he knows he could never be happy if he did. This thought, unfortunately, causes his mind to go down a dark rabbit hole. What were peaceful, happy, loving thoughts before, give way to only one thought. _Does Race only like me because I have girl parts?_ This thought, in all the months Race and Spot had been together, had never occurred to him. Suddenly the arms that were warm and comforting, burn on his skin. Spot’s breathing becomes ragged as he scrambles out of Racetrack’s grip, managing to wake the other boy up and fall off the bed in a matter of seconds.

  


“Woah, Spot, is you okay?” Race asks, voice still thick with sleep.

 

“Racer we needs ta talk,” Spot says harshly, standing up and crossing his arms.

 

Race shrugs, and sits up fully, looking at Spot expectantly. Spot opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it again almost immediately. He doesn't know what to say. He looks down and crosses his arms a little tighter, almost as if he is trying to block himself off from Race as much as possible.

 

“Spot?” Race says, concern evident in his voice. He stands up and moves to put a hand on Spot’s shoulder, but the shorter boy flinches away from the touch. “Spot what happened?”

 

Spot takes a moment and steels himself. He looks up at Race, eyes cold. “How could you?” He says angrily. “ _How could you?!_ ”

 

“What?!” Race says, starting to panic as he tries to figure out what he could have done. “What’d I do?!”

 

Spot scoffs. He knows rationally that he is being a bit childish, but he reasons that he’s earned it. “You knows what you’s done.” He spits venomously.

 

“No, I don't!” Race desperately defends, trying yet again to reach out for Spot but meeting the same result as before. “I’s got no clue Spotty, please jus’ tell me!”

 

Spot rolls his eyes and glares at Race. “I’s finally figured it out.”

 

Race looks helplessly back at Spot. Tears burn at the back of his eyes as he tries to understand what’s happening while attempting to cope with being yelled at.

 

“You’s _sick_ , Racer,” Spot growls, “I’s not a girl!”

 

Racetrack freezes when he hears the words Spot has just said. He stares for a moment, heart breaking into a million pieces. “Spot, I knows you’s not a girl.” He whispers out, tears roll freely down his face as he stares at Spot with pleading eyes.

 

“You’s only with me because I’s got girls parts Racer, I knows it now,” Spot accuses again. "Boys don't like boys!"

 

“N-No I isn’t!” Race yelps, scrambling to make Spot understand. “Is with ya because you’s smart and funny and strong and you’s the best damn newsie I’s ever met!” He cries, tear track staining his cheeks. “You’s so amazin’ Spotty and I’s in love wit’ ya, but it ain’t ‘cause you’s got girl’s parts or boy’s parts, it’s ‘cause you’s you! Plus you's a boy and you likes me!”

 

Spot looks Race in his ice blue eyes. He searches for any signs of lying or deceit, but all he can find is compassion and fear. “Is--does you--you means it?” He asks quietly.

 

Race nods and cries out, “yes, yes!”

 

Spot breaks. He crumples to the floor and sobs. He doesn't know how to handle the love the other boy is giving him. Never in his life has anyone truly loved him the way Race does. His parents kicked him out at the age of three and died a year later. Drops and Crumb are like his sister and brother, but they’ll never know Spot the way Race does. His newsies are his family, but he knows one day he won't have them anymore. But Race, Race is there. He is tangible. Race loves him. Truly, deeply, meaningfully, loves Spot Conlon and Spot is terrified.

 

As soon as Spot’s knees buckle, Race moves to hold him. He gathers Spot into his arms and cards a hand through his hair while whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Slowly the sobs give way to sniffles, but the boys stay tangled together on the floor for a while longer.

 

“I’s sorry Racer,” Spot mumbles into Race’s chest.

 

“It’s okay Spotty,” Race responds, punctuating the statement with a gentle kiss on the top of Spots head. “I knows it's scary sometimes. Jus’ remember you's a boy and I’s not going anywhere.” Race helps Spot back into the bed and tucks him in. He brushes the boy’s dark hair away from his forehead. “I’s jus’ gonna go pay the rent ta your Kloppmann, okay Spotty? I’s coming right back.” He says quietly.

 

Spot nods and shifts to dig out his dime from his pocket. Race silently takes it and slips out of the room to pay Mr. Hill at the front desk of the lodging house. He makes his way back to Spots room, entering quietly in case Spot fell asleep while he was gone. He had. Race crawls into the bed and curls protectively around Spot. He is pleased to find that Spot de-bound while he was downstairs. Race allows his breathing to fall in time with Spot and soon after, sleep takes over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I want to tell y'all that I spent a lot of time researching for this fic, if anyone wants to see my sources and such or the articles that Race is yelling about or the one spot was hawking in the first chapter, I have links to the actual papers in the library of congress, message me on Tumblr @racetracks-conlons and ill show you. I also linked Race's article in this chapter. That being said, I took quite a few historical liberties in this chapter. There wasn't actually a blizzard and the number of girls in this fic overall is definitely not proportionate to what it was in history. But I think its okay because it is fanfiction so it doesn't have to be perfect. Also, the conversation spot and race had about spots transness is very similar to a conversation my girlfriend and I had on a day where I accused her of only liking me because she thought of me as a girl even though I am nonbinary. The difference being she laughed and looked at me and said "babe you are definitely not a girl, and I don't care about your plumbing because it's not like we have sex anyway" (I'm also ace lol) and that was that. anyway, my gf is the best and spot and race are also the best. It may be a little while until the next chapter is posted because I haven't finished it yet and I am very busy for the next few days so I am sorry about that. I Love you all and thanks so much for all the love and support I have gotten on this fic so far. You know the drill.


	9. Race is Cold, Spot has a Cold, And Pepper Hates the Cold.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything finally falls into place with a sprinkle of angst, a handful of fluff, and everything in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry this took so long. In my defense though, this chapter is like twice as long as the other ones and also it is the last real chapter since the final one is an epilogue. I hope y'all liked this. I sure had fun writing it, even if there were times where I wanted to toss my computer in lake superior. So with that, please enjoy this last real chapter. Thank you all for sticking with it!

Race wakes to the sound of Spot snoring. He is surprised because he’s slept next to Spot countless times and has never heard the boy snore. He shifts a little and tries to ignore the sound and fall back asleep. Spot rolls onto his side in his sleep and Race takes the opportunity to curl closer, it's chilly in the room despite the two blankets and shared body heat so Race will take any extra warmth he can get. He is almost back asleep when Spot starts coughing. At first, it's just a small cough, Spot doesn't even wake up, however, it quickly worsens. Spot wakes up and sits up trying to breathe as coughs wrack his lungs. Race rubs his back in a feeble attempt to help.

 

“Jesus Spot,” he says as the coughing fit finally dies down. “Is you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Spot responds clearing his throat and sniffling, “I’s fine. Go back ta sleep Racer.”

 

“Gonna be kinda hard if you’s gonna keep snorin’ and coughin’” Race responds.

 

“Shut up,” Spot says halfheartedly. He lays back down and Race reassumes his position as the big spoon. It doesn't take long for both boys to fall back asleep. Soon, four AM hits and the lodging house comes to life, normally Spot wakes up all the boys at a quarter to four but he didn't wake up, so at four Mr. Hill starts banging on the bunks. Race wakes up to a loud knock on Spots door and an angry shout to “wake up and sell the damned papers.”

 

“Spot,” he says nudging the other boy, “‘s time ta get up.”

 

Spot opens his eyes slowly. His whole body aches and it feels as though someone stuffed his brain with cotton. He rolls over onto his face and groans. Race laughs and hops out of bed, ever the morning person, and begins to tug on his selling clothes. He finishes tying his shoes and looks up to find Spot still laying face down. He walks to the bed and puts a hand on Spots shoulder and giving a little shake. This must jostle something in Spot’s chest because he is sitting up and hacking in a matter of seconds. Race takes note of the flushed color of Spot’s face and the way he is hunched over and sweating. Race rubs his back until the coughing fit passes and when it does he moves his hand to feel Spot’s forehead. As soon as he does, Race’s decision is made.

 

“You’s not selling today,” he says firmly.

 

Spot scoffs at this, “like hell I ain’t!” He says getting up a little too quickly and wobbling slightly as black spots dance across his vision. “I’s fine Race it’s just a cough.”

 

“Yeah, okay Spotty,” Race says with a sarcastic laugh as he leads Spot back to the bed. “Gimme ya quarters,” he says holding out his palm.

 

“I’s sellin’ my own damn papes Race!” Spot argues.

 

“Spot you’s burnin’ up, you’s about ta cough out one a’ your lungs, ‘nd you’s can't even walk in a straight line. You ain’t selling today.” Race responds, doing his best impression of Spot’s king voice.

 

Spot gapes at him for a moment before conceding defeat. He really does feel awful. He sighs, drapes an arm over the side of the bed, and grabs his pants off the floor, digging into the pockets and producing four quarters. “You gives a third of ‘em ta Drops and a third ta Crumb,” He says pressing his coins into Race’s palm. “I don't need ya dyin’ out there on account a’ me. A hundred for the mornin’ and a hundred for the evenin’” he says he lays back down and closes his eyes. “‘Nd if anyone asks, I’s doin’ official king stuff,” he mumbles out, already nearly asleep again.

 

Race smiles and presses a kiss onto Spot’s forehead then quietly leaves the room. He finds Drops on the way to the circulation gate and tells her what’s going on. She smiles and offers to take Race’s share of Spot’s papes, but Race declines. They go their separate ways and start the day.

 

***

 

Two days later, on a bright Sunday morning, Spot’s fever breaks. He gets up from his bed and makes his way downstairs wanting to be there when Race arrives back. He plays a game of solitaire on the floor while he waits. His cold has become more sniffles than anything and he is very grateful not to be coughing every thirty seconds anymore.

 

About an hour later Spot finally hears Race enter the lodging house. He is accompanied by Crumb, Drops, and Pepper. Spot notes with fondness how Race’s pale freckled face is slightly flushed from the cold and his nose has turned an adorable shade of pink. The moment is short lived, however, when he notices that Pepper is crying. Spot tries not to roll his eyes, but it's hard for him not to. He doesn't understand why bad luck seems to follow Pepper around like some sort of plague.

 

“Drops,” He says and his second turns to him, “what’s happened?”

 

She sighs and passes Pepper’s little hand to Race. She walks Spot to the other side of the room and turns away from Pepper, Race, and Crumb. “We aren’t sure yet, he said he needs to talk to you. Please, Spot, go easy on him. The kid is only five, he doesn't need a firm hand right now.”

 

Spot gives a face of displeasure. He knows how to handle kids, he _is_ the King of Brooklyn for crying out loud. However approximately forty-five seconds later, when Pepper is shoved into his arms, Spot realizes he may be the king, but he has no idea how to handle kids. Pepper clings onto Spot, sniffling into his shirt, as he carries him up to his suite. Spot sets the little boy down on the bed then takes a seat beside him.

 

“So,” Spot begins awkwardly, “they’s said you’s wants to talk to me?” Spot’s words sound unsure at best. Unfortunately instead of Pepper blabbing on and on like Spot was hoping, all he gets is a nod and a sniffle. Spot internally groans. He has no idea what he is doing. All he wanted was a quiet afternoon hanging out with Racetrack. He didn't want this. He stops himself and takes a breath. He is the king. This is his responsibility. He takes a deep breath and tries again. “Pepper, what happened.”

 

“It’s cold.” Pepper replies in a small voice, “even inside.”

 

Spot looks down at the small boy next to him. “It’s winter, Pepper,” he says in a voice of confusion.

 

“I ain’t never been cold like dis inside before.” Pepper says somehow even more quietly. Spot is confused momentarily, but then it clicks. Pepper had only arrived at the lodging house at the beginning of the summer, sometime mid May if memory serves. He realizes this may be Pepper’s first time suffering through a New York winter without a warm home and family to return to each evening. Spot doesn't want to push the kid to tell him anything he doesn't want to so he chooses a different route in hopes that Pepper will open up about his past so Spot can help him work through it.

 

“We can try to finds you an extra blanket,” he offers gently.

 

“I miss my Momma,” Pepper responds. He looks up at Spot, hazel eyes glistening with tears. Spot feels sorry for the kid. He doesn't relate, but he can sympathize nonetheless. He doesn't want to ask what happened out of fear of making everything worse, but he knows it's gonna have to come out sooner or later. Spot is about to respond when, much to his relief, Pepper continues. “I’s seen my Pa today. He was gettin’ taken by da bulls. I ain’t seen him since he was beating my Momma and she told me ta run.” Pepper starts crying harder. Spot wishes there was something he could do. He can tell from the way Pepper talks about her that his Mom passed away. The poor kid is only five years old and Spot wishes it wasn't like this for him. It is the way of the world for him and most of his newsies though. No decent or living family, broken dreams, alive only for papers. Spot wraps an arm around Pepper’s small shoulders.

 

“You’s got a family here Pepp, we’s your brothers and sisters and we’s got you.” He says softly as Pepper cries. Spot holds him until the sobbing stops. Gently he pulls away and looks at Pepper in the eyes. “Is you okay if I goes and gets Race?” He asks gently. Pepper nods and wipes his eyes. Spot stands and exists the room leaving Pepper alone. He returns a few minutes later, Race, Crumb, and Drops in tow.

 

Spot reassumes his Spot next to Pepper, Crumb sits down on Pepper’s other side, and Race and Drops sit on the floor. Pepper looks at Spot expectantly before burying himself in Crumb’s shirt. Spot gets the memo and turns to the group. He carefully explains why Pepper is having a hard time. He explains Pepper’s past family life and he can see as things fall into place in the minds of the three other Newsies. When he is done explaining, Crumb and Drops take Pepper back downstairs offering to teach him how to shoot craps until Mr. Hill comes back.

 

***

 

A quiet knock wakes Race from his slumber. He groans and nudges Spot who rises at the same time as there is a second knock. Spot rolls out of the bed with a grunt and stumbles groggily to the door. He opens it a crack and peeks around. He doesn't see anyone and is about to close the door when a small voice speaks up.

 

“Spot?” Pepper says. Spot looks down and sees the shape of Pepper looking up at him.

 

“Pepper,” he says with a sigh, “you knows that if ya needs anything in the night you’s supposed to go to Crumb or Drops.”

 

“It's Pepper?” Race says from the bed, “Aww, let him in Spotty.”

 

Pepper’s little voice speaks again before Spot can respond to Race, “I knows I’s s’posed ta go ta Crumb. I’s sorry Spot.” His voice sounds like he has been crying and it makes Spot melt a little bit. He rolls his eyes and opens the door a little wider.

 

“C’mon in kiddo,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest to hide himself as well as he can. Pepper takes a hesitant step inside, but doesn't move past the doorway.

 

“You okay Pepper?” Race asks, getting up from the bed and crossing the room. He crouches down in front of Pepper, placing a hand on his shoulder. Pepper shakes his head in response. Race lifts him up, nodding at Spot to come back to bed, and carries him over to the small bed. Pepper lays down and Race curls in beside him. Spot realises there is no avoiding the current situation and resigns himself to being crammed on the tiny bed with the other two boys. He nudges Race and Pepper over a little more and climbs in. All three boys are asleep only minutes later.

 

When Race wakes up he sees Pepper sitting up as well. He glances down at Spot, who is still sleeping peacefully. He carefully climbs over the sleeping boy and motions for Pepper to do the same. Pepper follows Race to the corner of the room and sits down next to him.

 

“Mornin’ kid,” Race whispers.

 

“Mornin’ Race,” Pepper whispers back.

 

“Is you feelin’ any better today?” Race asks. Pepper smiles and nods.

 

“Thanks for lettin’ me sleeps in ya bed,” he says shyly.

 

“Ain’t a problem kiddo,” Race responds with a quiet laugh, “it ain’t even my bed.”

 

“But you’s wit’ Spot,” Pepper says, his face contorted in confusion, “and since it’s his bed, it's your bed too.”

 

“Wait,” Race says, starting to panic a bit, “What does you mean by that?”

 

Pepper looks at Race like he is stupid. “Isn't ya?” he asks, although it's not really a question. “You twos spend an awful lotta time togetha’ if you ain’t.”

 

“Pepper you can't tell anyone.” Race says sternly. “Does anyone else know?”

 

“Why?” Pepper asks innocently.

 

Race sighs. “Because some people ain’t agree wit’ it. They thinks two boys lovin’ each other ain’t right.”

 

Pepper looks very upset at this and Race wonders what he said wrong. Race opens his mouth to speak, but Pepper cuts him off. “It ain’t right for people ta say who ya can and can't love,” he says with a huff. “It ain’t right! It don't matter!”

 

Race sighs and puts an arm around Pepper. “I know it ain’t right for people ta judge like that, but right or wrong, it is what it is. Ain’t nothin’ we can do.”

 

Pepper turns a bit and looks up at Racetrack. “How’d ya know dat Spot liked ya?” He asks with wide eyes.

 

“Why ya askin’?” Race responds.

 

Pepper looks down at his hands and mumbles something.

 

“What was that?” Race asks. “I didn't hear ya.”

 

“I like a boy, but I dunno if he likes me too.” Pepper says sadly.

 

“It’s okay ta like him, Pepper, but ya gots ta be careful. Maybe try ta be friends with the kid first. That’s how Spot and I did it. Be friends first and figure the rest out later.”

 

Pepper gives a nod of understanding. He then changes the subject completely rambling on about a dog he saw last week. Race smiles and listens until Spot wakes up and instructs them to go down and wake everyone else.

 

***

 

“I feel bad for Pepper,” Race says as he follows Spot into the alley closest to the bridge.

 

“Racer,” Spot says with a sigh, “we’s been over this. Ya said the right thing.”

 

Race scoffs and makes a face of disbelief.

 

“I’s serious!” Spot argues, “you had three options. Ya could’a said we isn’t together and that being like us is wrong. But you knows that would’a broken his little heart.” Race still looks skeptical so Spot continues. “You could’a told him ta go for it. Said ta be open about it. That would get him killed and you knows that too. You did the right thing.”

 

Race looks down and kicks at a pebble. “I wish I could’a told him to go for it.” He says sadly. “It ain’t fair we’s gotta hide. It ain’t fair ta put that on a kid so young.”

 

“I know it ain’t,” Spot says cautiously, looking at Race’s balled up fists. “Maybe we should take a breath?” He says reaching out a hand. Race flinches away from the touch.

 

“It ain’t right Spot!” He half yells. “That kid ain’t done nothin’ ta deserve this! He just wants ta love who he loves!” A tear rolls down Races cheek as Spot helplessly watches. “No kid should have ta be scared a’ bein’ themself! It just ain’t right and I’s sick of it! He could be killed! We could be killed! You’s in even worse shape than Pepper or me is! I ain’t able ta lose yous Spot! I can't!” Race stops. He slides down against the wall and drops his head into his hands. Spot sighs and sits down next to him, only wondering a little bit why everyone feels the need to have so many feelings all the time.

 

“He’s a strong kid Race,” Spot says, gently lifting Race’s chin so their eyes meet. “He shouldn’t have ta deal with this, but he’s a strong kid ‘nd he’s gonna be okay.” Race nods and looks around before giving Spot a quick peck. They sit in silence for a while longer, enjoying each other’s company, but Race eventually has to leave. Spot walks with him across the bridge, a habit they adopted to avoid another Delancey fiasco, and then watches until he is out of sight.

 

***

 

Spot arrives back at the lodging house, hoping to be done for the night, but luck doesn't seem to be in his favor. He walks in and is immediately cornered by Drops and Crumb who force him up to his bedroom.

 

“We’ve got a problem,” Drops says harshly as soon as the door closes behind them.

 

“Clearly,” Spot says turning around to face the other two. Drops has her hands on her hips and she looks angrier than Spot has ever seen her look. Crumb, on the other hand, looks like he is trying to fade into the wall. Spot has never seen him look so uncomfortable before. Normally he looks as though nothing can faze him. A boy of few words, who shows little emotion. His current body language put Spot on edge.

 

“Do you want to tell Spot,” Drops says to Crumb, “or should I?”

 

Crumb cowers at her harsh tone and points a hesitant finger at her. Drops sighs and nods then turns towards Spot.

 

She takes a deep breath and begins. “Okay Spot, I want to start by telling you we know.”

 

“You know?” Spot questions, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Know what?”

 

“We know you ain’t a boy.” She says. Spot immediately crosses his arms over his chest defensively and takes a step back. He notices a similar movement from Crumb.

 

“I _is_ a boy, Drops,” he says angrily.

 

“Yeah, I know, but you don't have boy’s parts.” She responds, more softly this time. “And neither does Crumb.” She adds.

 

Spot falters for a moment. His other hand didn't feel comfortable telling him about his true self. Spot feels like he failed Crumb in every possible way.

 

“We is both boys, Drops.” He says sternly, pulling Crumb away from her.

 

“I _know_ Spot,” she says, “I didn't mean it like you aren't, I just meant you have the same parts as me.” She replies as gently as she can, still struggling to find the right words. “I know you are both boys.”

 

Spot makes a face at her but doesn't argue more. He can tell there is more to this conversation. “So why is we talkin’ then?”

 

“Cause I’s bled through my pants today,” Crumb says quietly.

 

Spot suddenly understands why the boy looks like he wants the floor to swallow him up. Spot has been in that position before and it is one of the worst feelings in the world. Spot looks at Drops, “Go make sure everyone gets to bed. I’ve got it from here.” He directs.

 

“I didn't mean it like that Spot. I am so sorry.” She says before exiting the room. Spot knows she didn't mean any harm by what she said, but it hurt anyway. It's hard to talk about normally, but it's even harder when someone doesn't know what to say. He doesn't blame her, but it doesn't make it hurt less to be called a _girl_. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and directs his attention back to Crumb, who still looks like he wants to disappear.

 

“Crumb it's okay,” Spot says as gently as he can, “you’s got nothin’ ta be ashamed of.”

 

“I ain’t got any more pants,” Crumb responds quietly.

 

“I’s sure we can find some,” Spot responds, pulling a trunk from under his bed. He keeps a stash of extra clothes in varying sizes just in case someone needs some. He is particularly pleased with himself for this habit at this moment in time. He just hopes he can find something that fits Crumb considering Crumb has about six inches on Spot.

Spot digs around for a few minutes making a small pile of things next to his knees. Once he is satisfied he grabs the pile and turns to Crumb.

 

“How old is you again?” Spot asks.

 

“I’s twelve,” Crumb responds, “but when people asks, I says I’s ten.”

 

Spot laughs lightly, shaking his head in amusement. “Is this the first time you’s had this happen?” Spot asks. He doesn't want to make Crumb any more uncomfortable than necessary so he avoids being direct about it. Crumb’s face turns red as he nods, avoiding eye contact with Spot.

 

“Okay so here is what you are gonna do from now on,” Spot begins, picking up a pair of underwear from the pile. He shows Crumb how to pin a rag into the underwear and then makes Crumb show him again to be sure he can. He then gives Crumb a new pair of pants and some additional pieces of fabric. He also explains how to wash the blood out of his pants and rags and underwear. Crumb has noticeably relaxed at Spot’s lack of judgement at the whole situation.

 

“Is you gonna be alright tonight?” Spot askes. “Or does you wanna stay in here with me?”

 

Crumb considers for a moment, shifting awkwardly as he thinks. Spot can tell Crumb wants to say something, but isn't sure how to say it.

 

“Crumb I ain’t gonna judge ya if you wants ta stay in here,” Spot says, “and I ain’t gonna judge ya if you wants ta go sleep in the bunk room.”

 

“I-I thinks I wants ta stay here if that's okay?” Crumb mumbles, glancing nervously at Spot.

 

“Works for me,” Spot says with a shrug. “You get changed and if you wraps your chest, unwrap it. I’s gonna go talk ta Drops for a second.” Spot smiles at Crumb, who gives a weak smile back, then goes to find Drops.

 

She is down in the common area trying to get a few of the more stubborn newsies to go upstairs and sleep.

 

“Hey!” Spot yells at them, “I’s gonna soak ya if ya don't listen ta Drops right now!” The three kids immediately bolt up the stairs to the bunk room. As soon as they are gone Drops turns to Spot.

 

“I am so sorry Spot.” She says, looking at him with guilt soaked eyes.

 

“It's okay Drops.” He responds. “Just remember that we is boys even if our parts is a little different.”

 

“I know you are. I didn't mean to say it like you aren't boys I just mixed up my words.” She replies sadly. “We have a lot of boys that are like you. Everyone tries to hide it. I feel bad. I just don't know what to say and when I try I just get all mixed up.” She rambles.

 

“Who else?” Spot asks ignoring everything else Drops is saying.

 

“What?” She responds.

 

“Who else is like me and Crumb?” He says quickly.

 

Drops starts listing off names, trying to remember as many as she can. Spot listens in awe, feeling guilty for not knowing and wondering how many of them had struggled with issues that they needed help with but hadn’t felt comfortable coming to Spot.

 

“I need to talk to everyone.” Spot declares. He turns quickly on his heel and marches up the stairs. He goes into the bunk room and clears his throat. His newsies know at this point that this means to pay attention. Anyone who was sleeping gets woken and they all look at Spot.

 

“It has come to my attention that I ain’t been the best leader.” He begins. “I’s just learned that a lot of you’s been keeping secrets from me.” A few gasps and whispers are heard around the room. “You knows I don't like secrets. I jus’ want you all to know I don't care what parts you has or who you likes,” Spot declares, his voice strong. “If you says you’s a boy, you’s a boy. If you says you’s a girl, you’s a girl. If you says you’s something else, great. If you likes boys or girls or both or neither, I don't care. As long as you’s strong and you’s sellin’ your papes and you’s soakin’ anyone who tries ta mess with you. If you’s got a problem with what I’s just said, get the hell of my turf or I'll soak ya.” With that Spot turns and nods to Drops who is gaping at him, her jaw nearly hitting the floor. He gives a satisfied smirk and walks up the stairs to his room.

 

“Hey Crumb,” Spot says as he enters the room, “I wants ya to know that being a Brooklyn newsie means protection for kids like us starting tonight.” Crumb smiles at this statement.

 

“Thanks Spot.” He says, looking a lot more relaxed than he had earlier. Spot notices Crumb’s pants, now wet, hanging from one of the hooks on the wall.

 

“Did ya get it all out?” Spot asks, gesturing at the pants. Crumb nods and smiles. Spot returns the smile before starting to undress for the night. Crumb turns around and does the same. Once both boys are ready for bed they settle in.

 

“Hey Spot?” Crumb whispers hesitantly.

 

“Yeah Crumb?” Spot responds gently.

 

“Is okay that I thinks of ya as my brother?” He asks. Spot can hear the blush in his voice and has to force down a laugh.

 

“You’s definitely my brother, Crumb,” he says, “and Drops is our sister.”

 

“Yeah she is,” Crumb agrees. “What about Race?” Crumb asks innocently. 

 

Spot is glad it is dark because his face is definitely redder than a tomato at the moment. “What about him?” Spot asks carefully in response.

 

“He sure ain’t your brother, not the way you looks at him,” Crumb states. “Is you two a thing?”

 

Spot sighs and figures Crumb isn't going to say anything to anyone. “Yeah we is,” he replies, “but you can't tell no one, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Crumb agrees. “Goodnight, Spot,” he says through a yawn. “And thanks again for everything.” He adds as an afterthought, clearly on the verge of passing out.

 

“Goodnight Crumb.” Spot replies. He turns away and shuts his eyes. Sleep takes over soon after.

 

The next morning as the newsies are getting ready, Spot notices a different atmosphere in the lodging house. It feels more welcoming. He is very pleased that his little speech went over well. After grabbing his papers, Spot heads off in the direction of his selling spot but is stopped when Drops grabs his arm.

 

“Drops if you’s gonna apologize again I’s gonna soak ya,” he says with an eye roll.

 

“I’m not here to apologize again, although I am still sorry,” she says, “I'm here to thank you for doing what you did last night. It feels like a weight has been lifted off the shoulders of all the newsies. So thank you Spot. And I am proud of you.”

 

“Yeah yeah I get it,” Spot says bumping into her slightly. “Now get to work you sap!” He calls before jogging off with his papers. The day passes quickly and all too soon Spot finds himself in the Manhattan side of the bridge with Race about to say their goodbyes for the night.

 

“Hey Spotty,” Race says, breaking the shorter boy out of his daze.

 

“Yeah Race?” Spot responds.

 

“I’s real happy I’s got you,” Race replies in voice scarcely louder than a whisper. “You’s probably the best thing in my life.”

 

Spot fights the urge to grab Race and kiss him right there, he knows it isn't safe but that doesn't help the fact that he desperately wants to.

 

“I’s glad I’s got you too, Race,” He says with a smile. “We’s gonna make this work somehow.” He declares. He gives Race’s shoulder a squeeze then waves him off. Race waves as he jogs backwards for a moment before turning and sprinting away.

 

As Spot makes his way back to the lodging house he has to fight back the smile on his face. No matter what kind of nonsense the world tries to throw their way Spot knows he and Race will be able to handle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The relative end. I am not sure when I will be posting the epilogue, but hopefully, the wait won't be too horrible. Also, this chapter was not beta'd because I am impatient (sorry Lily I love you), so if there are any glaring mistakes please please please tell me! Love y'all!


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot considers his life thus far. About a year after chapter 9 ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE LAST MELON! Here it is you guys! The final chapter of this fic. This is the longest piece of fiction I have ever shared online and it is finally coming to an end. I hope you all enjoyed the ride!

“D-dr-dro-drown-drowned,” Pepper sounds out, pointing at each letter as he goes, “in st-strow-stor-storm on our c-co-co-ahst?”

 

“Coast,” Crumb corrects gently.

 

[ “200 drowned in storm on our c-coast.” Pepper repeats. ](https://www.loc.gov/resource/sn83030180/1898-11-29/ed-1/?sp=1)

 

Crumb smiles and nods, ruffling the young newsie’s hair.

 

“You’s doin’ a real good job with ya readin’ kid,” Spot says, walking up to where Crumb and Pepper are looking down at a leftover paper from the morning.

 

“Thanks!” Pepper replies with a wide smile on his face.

 

“He’s been practicing for when Race is here tomorrow,” Crumb says with a smirk, “wants ta steal ‘im away from ya Spotty.”

 

Spot laughs at this. “I’s guessin’ I should watch out,” he replies with a teasing voice, “with skills like that I’s boned.”

 

Pepper’s face turns beet red as Spot and Crumb laugh.

 

“We’s just messin’ with ya, kiddo,” Spot says laying a hand on Pepper's shoulder. “You really is doin’ a great job ‘nd Racer is sure to be impressed.” Spot turns his attention to Crumb, “is you or Drops on lodge duty tomorrow?” He asks.

 

“It’s Dropsy’s turn,” Crumb replies, “why? Is you scared you’s gonna lose again?”

 

“I ain’t afraid a’ losin’” Spot replies sounding mildly offended, “I’s just wonderin’ if Pepper is comin’ to the game or not.”

 

Crumb considers for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, I’s gonna bring him with me.”

 

Spot sees Pepper’s face light up at this. He hasn’t been allowed at the weekly card games yet because of his age, but in celebration of the progress he’s made, Spot is more than happy to bend the rules a little bit.

 

“Does you knows who else is comin’ tomorrow?” Crumb asks Spot.

 

“Race and Albert are the only two for sure from ‘hattan. I know Smalls and a few a’ hers are comin’ and I’s not sure about anyone else.” Spot replies. Crumb nods then directs his attention back to Pepper and the two continue to read the paper.

 

Spot walks over to where Drops is reading a book with no cover on it, torn off by some kid at some point. “You’s okay with being in charge tomorrow?” He asks her. He knows she will say yes, but he still likes to make sure. She nods and smiles at him.

 

“You know I will never say no, right?” She quips.

 

“I’s just makin’ sure!” Spot replies putting his hands up in mock surrender. He is about to say more when there is a banging on the door. Spot rolls his eyes and goes to it, Drops following close behind and Crumb’s eyes watching them both like a hawk. Spot opens the door to find the one and only Racetrack Higgins standing on the stoop with a black eye.

 

“What the hell, Race,” Spot says with a defeated sigh, stepping to the side to allow the boy to enter.

 

“Wassup, Spotty!” Race replies pleasantly, walking quickly towards the stairs.

 

Spot fakes choking Race from behind before turning to Drops with pleading eyes. She smirks and shoos him off. Spot mouths a ‘thank you’ as he walks away.

 

Spot enters his room and finds Race looking at the sketch Drops had done of them the night Spot thought Race was going to die. “It’s still my favorite of all her drawings,” he says

 

“Mine too,” Race agrees.

 

“Nice eye,” Spot says flippantly.

 

“Thanks,” Race replies nonchalantly, “it's a gift from some guy who tried ta touch me.”

 

“Race,” Spot says gently, “is you okay?”

Race smiles, “yeah, I’s fine Spotty,” he says, “the other guy sure ain’t, though. He wasn’t even tough. He got one good blow before I’s soaked him.” Race has a smug smile on his face.

 

“Yeah, yeah, good job tough guy,” Spot says only partially joking. “Why’d ya come back here though? You was in Manhattan when I left ya.”

 

Race looks down at his feet and scuffs the toe of his boot on the floor. “I missed ya.” Is his quiet response.

 

Spot knows not to push any further. This isn't the first time Race had someone come after him, and Spot knows it won't be the last. He also knows that what Race needs to get through this right now is a good night's sleep and some comforting.

 

“I’s gonna go pay Mr. Hill, but I's coming right back. Get changed.” Spot says. Race smiles and nods, handing Spot some coins to pay for his share of the rent. While Spot is gone, Race sheds all his layers except his underwear and climbs into the bed. He smiles when he smells Spot on the blanket. When Spot comes back, he changes and unwraps himself, then lays down facing Race.

 

“We’s gotta be more careful Spotty,” Race whispers.

 

Spot looks at him, perplexed.

 

“The guy,” Race says, still quiet. “He said he’s seen us and if I likes you like that then how would I like him.”

 

Spot feels sick. He and Race are already so careful, they shouldn't have to sneak around at all and now it's only going to be worse. “I’s so sorry Race,” Spot whispers back.

 

“It ain’t your fault, Spot,” Race sighs. “Just the way things is, I guess.”

 

Spot frowns but says nothing. Race isn't wrong. Spot pulls him closer and kisses him. “We’s gonna be alright.” He whispers between kisses, “We’s gonna be just fine.”

 

***

 

“Spot!” Drops calls through the door of Spot’s room sometime around midnight a few weeks later. “Your boyfriend is here! And that loud kid, Albert, is with him.”

 

Spot groans and gets up from the bed and opens the door. Albert and Race immediately rush inside. “What did you two idiots do?” He asks.

 

Both boys look at him guiltily. “We’s just done what was right.” Race says earnestly.

 

Albert nods his head in agreement. “Yeah! We’s just done what they’s deserved!” He squawks in agreement.

 

“They was saying stuff about the kids like you and Al and Crumb!” Race explains waving his hands around wildly as he does. “‘Bout how you’s not normal! They’s had it comin’ from the start.”

 

Spot listens patiently, well not patiently per say, but without complaint, until Race is finished. “Who deserved it?”

 

“The Delancey Brothers,” Albert says, spitting the name like it's venom. “We ran here on account of they ain’t never come ta Brooklyn.”

 

Spot rubs a hand down his face and sighs. “Albert take off ya bandages since I can see you hasn’t yet.” He instructs. “Race change and go to sleep. Neither of ya wakes me up until selling time and you’s both going to the Manhattan gate in the morning.” Spot’s tone leaves no room for argument and both boys do as they are told. Spot happily falls back asleep.

 

***

 

Spot wakes up and finds Race laying half on top of him. He sees Albert on the floor laying like a starfish, snoring peacefully.

 

He finds himself thinking about his life so far. He remembers how terrified he was when he was literally thrown out of his home. All he had said was he didn't like to be called a girl and that was it.

 

He thinks about when he was first found by Drops, only a couple years older than himself. How she chattered on and on about being a newsie. He thinks about how he found himself a home with the Brooklyn newsies.

 

He remembers one of the older boys shouting about how a couple was found dead in their apartment. He remembers the picture of the room that was in the paper. He remembers how Drops hugged him and told him he would always have a family with the newsies.

 

He remembers finding Crumb getting beat up by some guy in an alley. He remembers fighting for Crumb’s life and for his own. He remembers how Drops helped him get Crumb to the lodging house. How Crumb didn't even speak for the first few years and only ate a tiny bit of the food he was given, earning him his nickname.

 

He remembers when Danny Boy never came back and he was forced to step up even though he had no idea what he was doing. He remembers when he started to look like a “girl” and how he had to hide and learn what to do on his own.

 

He remembers finding Race fighting Fringe to save a few coins for a kid he didn't even know. He remembers all the times Race needed to take a break from everything and Spot would tell him stories or read him an old newspaper article or just sit quietly until Race could breathe again. 

He remembers when Race almost died for Pepper. He remembers his and Race’s first kiss. 

He remembers Race getting taken by the Delanceys. How scared he was for the boy he realized he loved.

 

He remembers how Race helped Spot through the good, the bad, and the ugly of his mind. How Race became the catalyst that made Brooklyn safe for kids who didn't fit the norms of society.

 

Spot considers his life so far. He hugs Race closer and the blond nuzzles into his neck and breathes out a quiet, “good morning, Spot.”

 

“Good morning, pretty boy,” Spot responds, kissing his love on the forehead. “I hate to say it, but it's time to get up.”

 

Race kisses Spot then smiles and gets up. He picks up a shirt from the ground and balls it up before throwing it at Albert. “GET UP RED!” He shouts and the other bolts awake, leaving Spot and Race dying with laughter.

 

“You both suck,” Albert says with a laugh, standing up and searching for his shirt.

 

Race sticks out his tongue at Albert before hopping off the bed to get ready as well.

 

As Spot makes his way to the circulation gate, he considers that perhaps his life hasn't been easy or perfect, but it's turned out alright. He is surrounded by friends and family and love all the time and while it may not be conventional, it's perfect in its own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I didn't expect to feel this sad about being done with this. It has been exhausting to write and has forced me to push past a lot of anxiety, but I don't hate how it came out. I hope you all enjoyed it at least a little bit! Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
>  
> 
> ***if I were to write a west side story au would anyone read it?***  
> ******has it been done yet?******

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are the reason I keep writing. Especially comments. Please let me know what you think because I have major anxiety when it comes to posting!!!


End file.
